Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 July 1895 — SANTA ANNA’S ONE LEG. [ARTICLE]

SANTA ANNA’S ONE LEG.

A Good Story of Crow-Cunning, Told by Congressman Cummings. Ex-Congressman Cummings, of New York, tells this good crow story in the Washington Pathfinder: “It was in Florida. Tom Murrey and I had made a camp a little back from the shore—object, fish. Among other things we used to immolate a turtle every morning. The sea turtle does not lay its eggs under what you might call the Australian system. Whole herds come out of the sea together, and the way they mix up their eggs must make it a tangle when one of them tries to call its family together. You know Murrey, great cook and all that! Well. Murrey claimed to know all of these turtles by their given names, and used to stroll about among ’em and look in their faces, and pick out one to kill. Murrey claimed that you should pick out a turtle for food by his head.

“ ‘lf he has a broad, flat head, wide at the jaws, like an adder.’ says Murrey, ‘don’t touch him. He is a turtle with a savage temper. He fights other turtles and gets into fits of rage and spoils his flesh. Pick out a turtle with a round, kindly face; one that you would not hesitate to accept for a guide, philosopher, and friend; that’s the turtle to eat.' “But about the crows. They used to flock about camp by the thousands to peck at the shells of the turtles that Murrey had slain and to grab off biscuit crumbs and scraps. One of these, I noticed, was a one-legged crow. Somewhere in the game of life he’d lost one of his pins, and was pegging around making a living on the other. I felt sorry for him. My fad is cripples, and so I ran a deadline around the camp and wouldn’t let the other crows come inside. We just gave Santa Anna the run of the camp—that’s what we called the one-legged crow, Santa Anna—and he was welcome to the biscuit, the baking powder, and anything we had. Santa Anna became quite tame, and would let us pick him up at times. As he ransacked the camp and filled up on the delicacies, the other crows perched about on the scrubby trees glowered at Santa Anna, and loathed him, and wondered where he got his push. “But one day we missed Santa Anna. He came not. The next day and the next were vacant of Santa Anna. Murrey and I felt lonely. The other crows stood about in the trees and gloated over us. By the look of green and Satanic exultation in their eyes we could see that they had murdered Santa Anna.

“On the third day after our pet’s disappearance, however, we were delighted by his sudden coming back. There he was pegging about on one leg and standing in on the sugar and the dried currants as of yore. Tom and I were tickled to death. It was as if a stone had been rolled from our hearts. What grew to be wonderful, too, was the appetite Santa Anna had brought with him. He ate from morning until night. He was at it all the time. Murrey is superstitious, and I knew that a crow that ate through twelve straight hours and never let, up was due to break up our camp. “I concluded to catch Santa Anna and see if I could solve the mystery of all this grub he’d been stowing away. I'd got to be careful, for another peculiarity which Santa Anna had developed during his three days’ vacation wa as profound shyness. It pained Murrey to the heart, after all he had done for him. I approached Santa Anna with great caution and suddenly reached for him. I missed him, but in his hurry dodging away, Santa Anna stuck out a second leg, which he’d carried hid away in his bosom feathers . , At this the other crows, which were sitting in the trees watching, screamed rudely and flew aWay. The secret was out. They had killed the real Santa Anna, and now, one by one, they would hide a leg in their feathers and hop into camp and work me and Tom.”