~ ~ ~ ~ Crow ~ ~ ~ ~
The crow landed with a thud in the tall maple and cawed.
“Peanuts!” I said, holding out the plastic container I was carrying. Crow cawed again — but this time, a slightly different sound. Lower, longer. I wondered if he was calling a mate, or a friend. Or was he addressing me? Did he know me as “The Peanut Lady”?
Crows are regular visitors to our yard. They enjoy the peanuts I originally put out for the squirrels — in hopes of keeping them away from the bird feeders — and the blue jays. I was glad when they showed up. I like the way crows strut around the yard. They are handsome birds, and they have an attitude.
Often, at dusk, I see dozens of them flying far overhead. There is a murder of crows that roosts somewhere in Augusta — I think on the other side of the Kennebec River. It’s an amazing, soul-satisfying sight.
Another crow arrived as I filled the bird feeders and threw out some peanuts. The two watched me from the tree but did not come near.
I went into the house, washed my hands, and then joined my husband, who was waiting in the car in the driveway. As I opened the car door, a crow flew overhead, low enough that I could see it had a peanut clenched in its beak.
Mission accomplished. For Crow, and for the Peanut Lady.
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I welcome email at lizzie621@icloud.com
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