Crow

For a few weeks every May a crow repeatedly visits the bird bath (luckily the one less popular with small birds).

The crow (or several different crows) brings food and stores it in the dish: peanuts in shells, big hunks of white bread – or body parts.

Why would a crow prefer food soaked into mushiness? Last summer I suspected it might be easier to eat a soggy piece of bread than a crunchy one, or to corral a peanut in a dish. Maybe on a hot day, the water keeps meat and bones fresher.

The other day the crow used a foot to hold food against the rim of the dish, while tearing off morsels and taking sips of water between mouthfuls. When finished, the crow lifted up with flapping wings and flew straight between the houses. At the edge of the bluff it paused for an instant’s hesitation, then released into a glide over the edge. I imagine how pleasurable that must feel.

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