A Murder Of Crows Consider MurderPosted: August 9, 2013
The crows gathered around half of a sandwich roll in a parking lot. I know how the crows got there. The arrival of the roll is a mystery.
How their bounty got to the lot didn’t matter to the crows. They knew how the roll would leave the lot. They worked together in that “every man for himself” way that crows have. Bite by bite, the roll headed toward its destiny.
One of the group lifted his head from the meal. The others looked his way. That crow said something that the others agreed with. I’m not certain, but I think he said “poppy seeds add so much to a roll”.
I don’t agree. Poppy seeds don’t contribute to my enjoyment of a roll. I didn’t mention that to the group; it didn’t seem like a situation that was waiting for my input.
While the crows ratified their agreement on poppy seeds, the situation changed. A crow who seemed an outsider to the group swooped in from a light post.
Landing in the midst of the crows who’d excluded him, he hoisted the roll in his beak. The interloper strode through the crowd. When he gained enough space, he took two quick steps. Wings spread wide, he flew off with his loot.
When that happened, those who were eating seemed to realize why a group of their species is called a murder of crows. The crows called for vengeance. A posse formed. That posse took flight on a mission to bring the thief to justice, or perhaps just to snatch back their roll.
It was in that moment of flapping wings and raspy calls that I believe I figured out how to say “Hey, asshole” in crow.