I like crows. 

No one else seems to, but I do.  They may be scavengers, and eaters of the dead, but they have personality.

The other day, one was sitting on the roof-cornice of the library as I was walking back with my lunch.  Black feathers turned silver, purple, blue in the glint of sunlight.  Raising its wings half-way, I watched it stretch out its head and caw three or four times in quick succession.  Then, it shook its head, feathers all ruffled up like a chicken, and settled back onto the corner.

I talked to it.  It cawed back to me, acting indignant that I had food and would not give it even a tiny morsel.

Funny bird.

I hear they’re pretty smart, too.

Yep.  I think they’re kind of neat.


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