Silverspot and the Other End

Wild Animals I Have Known

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Literary adaptation · One crow among many

Among the crows of Toronto’s wooded ravines, one old bird was easy to recognize. Between his right eye and his bill lay a small silvery-white spot. To the naturalist watching from the ravine, he was no longer just one black bird among many. He was Silverspot.

A meal slips away

One day, Silverspot flew down the ravine carrying a large piece of bread. Below him, the stream ran toward a new brick tunnel. He was passing over the open water when the bread slipped from his bill. The current caught it and carried it straight into the dark.

Nothing to see

Silverspot flew down to the opening and peered inside. The bread had vanished. This was no short arch: two hundred yards of the stream had already been covered in brick. The water kept going where he could no longer see it. For a moment, his meal was out of reach.

The other end

Then Silverspot rose from the bank. He did not follow the bread into the tunnel. He flew to its other end, farther down the ravine. There, beyond the long covered stretch, the stream emerged into daylight again. Silverspot had gone ahead of the thing he had lost.

Waiting for the water

At the downstream opening, he waited. Water spilled from the tunnel into the open stream, carrying along whatever had entered upstream. And then the pale piece of bread appeared. It had never stopped moving. While Silverspot had taken the air, his lost meal had travelled beneath the brick.

Bread, found again

Silverspot seized the bread and carried it away. Behind him, water kept running out of the tunnel, just as it had run in at the other end. His meal had disappeared into darkness and come back into daylight. All he had needed was a different place to wait.

Silverspot and the Other End
By Adapted from Ernest Thompson Seton (1898)
Among the crows of Toronto’s wooded ravines, one old bird was easy to recognize. Between his right eye and his bill lay a small silvery-white spot. To the naturalist watching from the ravine, he was no longer just one black bird among many. He was Silverspot.
One day, Silverspot flew down the ravine carrying a large piece of bread. Below him, the stream ran toward a new brick tunnel. He was passing over the open water when the bread slipped from his bill. The current caught it and carried it straight into the dark.
Silverspot flew down to the opening and peered inside. The bread had vanished. This was no short arch: two hundred yards of the stream had already been covered in brick. The water kept going where he could no longer see it. For a moment, his meal was out of reach.
Then Silverspot rose from the bank. He did not follow the bread into the tunnel. He flew to its other end, farther down the ravine. There, beyond the long covered stretch, the stream emerged into daylight again. Silverspot had gone ahead of the thing he had lost.
At the downstream opening, he waited. Water spilled from the tunnel into the open stream, carrying along whatever had entered upstream. And then the pale piece of bread appeared. It had never stopped moving. While Silverspot had taken the air, his lost meal had travelled beneath the brick.
Silverspot seized the bread and carried it away. Behind him, water kept running out of the tunnel, just as it had run in at the other end. His meal had disappeared into darkness and come back into daylight. All he had needed was a different place to wait.

Silverspot and the Other End

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