The year after the crows seemed to have picked a new path a block or two over so I missed out at home. But the crow trail did go alongside the road that I drove several times a week to go to derby practice. At stop lights I could watch the crows fly past.
This summer, I've been left completely bereft of the evening procession. The crows have been infrequent visitors, while the magpies (and skunks!) have taken over the trees outside my windows. Hardly a crow to see.
Until this week.
I'm not terribly familiar with crow behavior but they do indeed seem to be doing some seasonal gathering about the neighborhood.
There are murders. Everywhere.
Perhaps because the babies are about grown, they are reforming social groups? I don't know but I did take out a couple books from the library and plan to find out more tonight.
While I was outside today, reading Rise of the Huntress, Joseph Delaney's seventh book in his creepy The Last Apprentice series, I'm marveling, a bit worriedly, about the massing of crows about me, when I turn the page to this chapter heading illustration:
I love it when my landscapes, inside and out, conspire to agree.
I failed, however, to get a picture of the larger murders, they being tricky and ever moving. The crows definitely seem restless and ever moving. I will be stalking them as the week progresses, though. I do, in fact, know where they sleep.
In the meanwhile, I set out some crow friendly foodstuff (but no battlefield fodder, I don't want to give the neighbors a reason to call in the bylaw officers), in the hopes that a crow might take notice of me and want to train me to fetch a ball for it or serve it expensive water, if I show willing and sufficient intelligence.
And now I finish my book.
