Nothing To Crow About

I notice stuff. This morning on my way to work, I saw some crow activity at a construction site. Two crows were exploring the dirt. One found a small plastic cup that was probably used for catsup. He took one of his claws and pinned the cup to the ground, at an angle that would afford him the best access to whatever was still in there. Genius! I know crows are smart... scary smart. A friend has assured me that crows are awesome, and mate for life. Whatever. They still creep me out because I suspect they are more intelligent than I am. Case in point: We like to throw peanuts out for squirrels. When we are almost home from our morning walk with the dogs, a crow in a tree always yells to his buddies. By the time we get to the back yard, a bunch of crows are waiting, licking their chops... er beaks. Even though the peanuts are intended for squirrels, 90% are taken by crows and a couple of blue jays. I was outside once, chasing away the crows. I’d wave my arms and they would hop away, and then come back. This went on for a while. Then, one crow swooped down and picked up one of the little rocks I had lining the edge of my garden. I said something dumb like “Hey come back here with my rock!”. The crow flew out to the alley, with me in hot pursuit. Me on the ground, crow in the air. This was not going to turn out well. As soon as I got to the alley, and away from the peanuts, the crow dropped my rock. It had all been a diversion, with me as the dupe. I’m not sure, but as I slunk back to the house in disgrace (clutching my little rock), I think I heard snickers from the damn crows. In Boston they’d refer to them as “wicked smart”. And I, no doubt, would be called a “wicked doofus”.