Crow Street

One September day as I came out of my house, I noticed ten or fifteen crows congregating on the street. This is a pretty amazing sight, these big black birds strutting around the street, talking to each other in their loud raucous voices. My yellow lab and I were going for a walk. I held onto him closely as we went out to the sidewalk and up the street under the little maples. Then the inevitable happened, a car drove up the street. The birds all flew up into the trees on the other side of the street. All except for one. That one flew into the maple tree above our heads. I looked up and saw him looking down at us. I looked at him and he looked at me. Meanwhile the birds across the street were getting restless. Talking back and forth to each other. Finally I said quietly to the bird above our heads, “you can go now” and he flew off to join the rest of the crows. Then they all left, flying over our heads to join a larger group of crows in the tall trees across the alley. All during our walk and a for while afterwards I noticed the tree tops were full of crows. They were flying everywhere as if making some momentous plans. Then they were gone. I wonder where they all went. Do crows migrate? I’ve seen a few but not many since that day.

Back Yard

It is fall again. This morning as I walked out into the back yard I noticed a squirrel about five feet from my cat, Silver. The squirrel was searching for a place to bury some odd looking thing that it was carrying. Silver (with her newly acquired silver bell which announces her presence wherever she goes) was watching the squirrel with the same fascination that I was. The squirrel finally found the perfect location, dug for a while and placed the object in the hole, buried it, and left. Soon, another squirrel came from another location to unbury the object and took off up the choke cherry tree. Then a flock of starlings came and settled on the grape vine which covers the wall of the garage to feed on the wild grapes that were abundant this year. The movement in the patch of wild sunflowers drew my attention to the small yellow canary like birds that were feeding on the sunflowers. Then my ears came alive to the symphony of bird songs that was playing to the beat of the gentle rain falling upon the leaves of the trees, and the wing beats of the silent crows as they flew from tree to tree way up above. Then the tinkle of the small silver bell as my kitty ran out into the yard to take it all in. Apparently, the wildlife doesn’t regard her as a threat any more since they can hear her whenever she moves. The symphony continued until, as I walked out to deposit seeds on the hearth at the opposite end of the yard, all birds became airborne; the symphony became the quiet whisper of wings. I waited for a moment, my bare feet rooted to cool grass, after depositing the seeds, to see if the birds would return. Return they did, eyeing me, yet wanting to take full advantage of the morning and of the feeding ground that has been allowed to grow for a time such as this.