We did try keeping Caesar in cage, but he was so angry, and objected with such fierce cawing and flapping, that it was better for our nerves and peace of mind to give him the run of the house. He did not show any inclination to join the other crows in the banyan tree. Grandfather said this was because he was really a jungle crow - a raven of sorts - and probably felt a little contemptuous of very ordinary carrion crows. But it seemed to me that Caesar, having grown used to living with humans on equal terms, had become snobbish and did not wish to mix with his own kind. He would even squabble with Harold the Hornbill. Perching on top of Harold's cage, he would peck at the big bird's feet, whereupon Harold would swear and scold and try to catch Caesar through the bars.
In time, Caesar learnt to talk a little-as ravens sometimes do-in a cracked, throaty voice. He would sit for hours outside the window, banging on the glass with his beak and calling, 'Hello, hello'. He seemed to recognise the click of the gate when I came home from school, and would come to the door with a hop, skip and jump, saying, 'Hello, hello!' I had also taught him to sit on my arm and say 'Kiss, kiss', while he placed his head gently against my mouth.
