Yes really. That there is an image of a crow bearing my initials. The crow is being held by crow expert Kevin McGowan.
It's a very young crow.
Oh! Next year, maybe I will see young crows.
But maybe CD will move away.
I won't think of that.
There are now starlings feeding in my garden. Once, when I was a kid, we rescued a starling from the cats. I had it in a shoebox and took it to school. We couldn't leave it at home alone. With the cats. I think it died. I remember the bird smell. Chickens have a bird smell. Ducks are different. There's a greasy muddiness about their smell.
When my cats caught birds and they fluttered... I do recall some sense of... well, not to put too fine a point on it, disgust. I didn't want to touch them. The spikiness of feet and the flappy wings that you might break. The smallness and alienness of them.
But I would touch CD. He is a very clean crow. He is always cleaning his beak. That said, he often has dead leaves stuck on the back claw. That's funny, when they walk around with a leaf - like a person trailing toilet paper from the loo.
Something else. The other day, I was leaving the park, calling the actually deaf and deliberately deaf dog. CD was maybe 15-20 yards away and sort of following. I felt this desperate sorrow. I recall it from reading the Frog Princess. You know, the frog gets her golden ball out the pond and wants her to kiss him? She runs away and the poor frog has to hop after her. So small!! Hop, hop, hop. I felt desperate for the frog, loyally, lovingly following the ungrateful and selfish princess. Worse for the crow, following a Crone. I walked back and gave CD some cat food.
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