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Updated: June 1, 2025
The sexes of the pigeon in the parent-species do not differ in any external character; nevertheless, in certain domesticated breeds the male is coloured differently from the female. Dr. Chapuis, 'Le Pigeon Voyageur Belge, 1865, p. 87. Boitard et Corbie, 'Les Pigeons de Voliere, etc., 1824, p. 173.
Thus, long after he would have been weaned, for his own good, from such care, had he remained wild, Corbie, the tame crow, claimed protection with cunning, cuddling ways that taught the Blue-eyed Girl and her brother and the Grown-Ups, too, something about crows that many people never even guess.
But when the root of the aik decays, And the mistletoe dwines on its withered breast, The grass shall grow on Errol's hearthstane, And the corbie roup in the falcon's nest. It is not a new opinion that the Golden Bough was the mistletoe. True, Virgil does not identify but only compares it with mistletoe. But this may be only a poetical device to cast a mystic glamour over the humble plant.
The Slyme ale-house had an ill repute, and was said to be haunted moreover; none would lie there the night who had anything to lose 'twas the haunt of kites and 'corbie craws. As he watched and waited there stole down from the fells above him 'oncome' of mist or 'haar' from the eastward, which soon drew a plaid of hodden grey above the shoulder of Shillmoor.
They had chosen a king among them, who came from Clermont in Beauvoisis. He was elected as the worst of the bad, and they denominated him "Jacques Bonhomme." These wretches burned and destroyed in the county of Beauvoisis, and at Corbie, Amiens, and Montdidier, upward of sixty good houses and strong castles.
Parker's is, on the whole, so English a collection that the presence of this early French book arrests attention. Corbie has occupied a considerable space, but it is entitled to do so on several accounts.
He was a nimble sort of father, or he never could have done it, so tall a tree it was, with no branches near the ground. Corbie, even at ten days old, was not like the spry children of Peter Piper, who could run about at one day old, all ready for picnics and teetering along the shore. No, indeed! He was almost as helpless and quite as floppy as a human baby, and he needed as good care, too.
They could not waste this sense of luck in pity. The escape of their own individuality, this possession of life, was a glorious thought. They were alive! What luck! What luck! We called the hospital at Corbie the "Butcher's Shop."
Corbie is in a fix," quoth Yaspard to himself, as he watched the swift, graceful evolutions of the shooies as they darted through the air buffeting and tormenting the unfortunate raven, whose harsh, fierce croak and futile efforts to escape were quite pitiful though amusing.
"And to you, bonny lad," replied the complimented dame, dropping a courtesy, "may the corbie never cry at ye nor ill-faured pie juik at your left elbow. May candle creesh never fa' on ye, red fire burn ye, nor water scald ye." Tib was reeling off her catalogue of blessings when Sholto cut her short.
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