The case soon attracted considerable attention, people flocking to the
church from all over the country-side, and it was not long before
certain persons came forward and declared they had ascertained the cause
of the disturbance. The churchwarden, sexton, and his wife and others
all swore to seeing a huge crow pecking and clawing at the coffins in
the vaults, and flying about the chancel of the church, and perching on
the communion rails. When they tried to seize it, it immediately
vanished. An old lady, who came of a family of well-to-do yeomen, and who lived
near the church about that time, said that the people in the town had
for many years been convinced the church there was haunted by the
phantom of a bird, which they believed to be the earth-bound soul of a
murderer, who, owing to his wealth, was interred in the churchyard,
instead of being buried at the cross-roads with the customary wooden
stake driven through the middle of his body. This belief of the yokels
received some corroboration from a neighbouring squire, who said he had
seen the phantasm, and was quite positive it was the earth-bound soul of
a criminal whose family history was known to him, and whose remains lay
in the churchyard. This is all the information that I have been able to gather on the
subject, but it is enough to, at least, suggest the church was, at one
time, haunted by the phantom of a bird, but whether the earth-bound soul
of a murderer taking that guise, or the spirit of an actual dead bird,
it is impossible to say. _The Ghost of an Evil Bird_

Henry Spicer, in his _Strange Things Amongst Us_, tells the story of a
Captain Morgan, an honourable and vivacious gentleman, who, arriving in
London in 18--, puts up for the night in a large, old-fashioned hotel. The room in which he slept was full of heavy, antique furniture,
reminiscent of the days of King George I, one of the worst periods in
modern English history for crime. Despite, however, his grimly
suggestive surroundings, Captain Morgan quickly got into bed and was
soon asleep. He was abruptly awakened by the sound of flapping, and, on
looking up, he saw a huge black bird with outstretched wings and fiery
red eyes perched on the rail at the foot of the four-poster bed. The creature flew at him and endeavoured to peck his eyes. Captain
Morgan resisted, and after a desperate struggle succeeded in driving it
to a sofa in the corner of the room, where it settled down and regarded
him with great fear in its eyes. Determined to destroy it, he flung
himself on the top of it, when, to his surprise and terror, it
immediately crumbled into nothingness. He left the house early next
morning, convinced that what he had seen was a ghost, but Mr. Spicer
offers no explanation as to how one should classify the phenomenon. It may have been the earth-bound spirit of the criminal or viciously
inclined person who had once lived there, or it may have been the
phantom of an actual bird. Either alternative is feasible. I have heard there is an old house near Poole, in Dorset, and another in
Essex, which were formerly haunted by spectral birds, and that as late
as 1860 the phantasm of a bird, many times the size of a raven, was so
frequently seen by the inmates of a house in Dean Street, Soho, that
they eventually grew quite accustomed to it. But bird hauntings are not
confined to houses, and are far more often to be met with out of doors;
indeed there are very few woods, and moors, and commons that are not
subjected to them. I have constantly seen the spirits of all manner of
birds in the parks in Dublin and London. Greenwich Park, in particular,
is full of them. _Addendum to Birds and the Unknown_

Though their unlovely aspect and solitary mode of life may in some
measure account for the prejudice and suspicion with which the owl,
crow, raven, and one or two other birds have always been regarded, there
are undoubtedly other and more subtle reasons for their unpopularity. The ancients without exception credited these birds with psychic
properties. "Ignarres bubo dirum mortalibus omen," said Ovid; whilst speaking of the
fatal prognostications of the crow Virgil wrote:

     "Saepe sinistra cava praedixit ab ilice cornix." A number of crows are stated to have fluttered about Cicero's head on
the day he was murdered. Pliny says, "These birds, crows and rooks, all of them keep much
prattling, and are full of chat, which most men take for an unlucky sign
and presage of ill-fortune." Ramesay, in his work _Elminthologia_ (1688), writes:

"If a crow fly over the house and croak thrice, how do they fear they,
or someone else in the family, shall die." The bittern is also a bird of ill omen. Alluding to this bird, Bishop
Hall once said:

"If a bittern flies over this man's head by night, he will make his
will"; whilst Sir Humphry Davy wrote:

"I know a man of very high dignity who was exceedingly moved by omens,
and who never went out shooting without a bittern's claw fastened to his
button-hole by a riband, which he thought ensured him 'good luck.'" Ravens and swallows both, at times, prognosticate death. In Lloyd's
_Stratagems of Jerusalem_ (1602) he says:

"By swallows lighting upon Pirrhus' tents, and lighting upon the mast of
Mar. Antonius' ship, sailing after Cleopatra to Egypt, the soothsayers
did prognosticate that Pirrhus should be slaine at Argos in Greece, and
Mar. Antonius in Egypt." He alludes to swallows following Cyrus from Persia to Scythia, from
which the "wise men" foretold his death. Ravens followed Alexander the
Great from India to Babylon, which was regarded by all who saw them as a
fatal sign. "'Tis not for nought that the raven sings now on my left and, croaking,
has once scraped the earth with his feet," wrote Plautus. Other references to the same bird are as follows:

     "The raven himself is hoarse
     That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
     Under my battlements." --(_Macbeth._)

     "It comes o'er my memory
     As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
     Boding to all." --(_Othello._)

     "That tolls
     The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,
     And in the shadow of the silent night
     Doth shake contagion from her sable wings." (_Jew of Malta._)

  "Is it not ominous in all countries where crows
  and ravens croak upon trees?" --(_Hudibras._)

     "The boding raven on her cottage sat,
     And with hoarse croakings warned us of our fate." (_The Dirge._)

"In Cornwall," writes Mr. Hunt, in his work on popular beliefs, etc., of
the West of England, "it is believed that the croaking of a raven over
the house bodes evil to some of the family. The following incident,
given to me by a really intelligent man, illustrates the feeling:

"'One day our family were much annoyed by the continual croaking of a
raven over the house. Some of us believed it to be a token; others
derided the idea. But one good lady, our next-door neighbour, said:

"'"Just mark the day, and see if something does not come of it."