Crow Rant

There’s a brutally rent stump that stands between our deck and the ocean. It used to be a giant, ancient fir tree, but it blew down in a wind storm in the wee hours of March 20 last year.

Starlings perched on fir snagWe were very lucky the tree didn’t land on anything important. My husband liked the stump. He started referring to it as “the monument.” I hated it. I didn’t want to be reminded each day of the beautiful eagle perch that was no more. But within a day or two of losing the tree, starlings took up residence in the stump’s ragged cavity. Their presence took away some of the sting from the tree’s loss.

I know that starlings aren’t the darling of the bird set, but having a front-row seat to their antics these past two years has endeared them to me. I just have to look up from my computer to watch them. The adults are constantly flitting in and out with yummy bugs and other goodies in their beaks. They raise two families a year and each time the wee ones hop out of their nest for the first time, I get embarrassingly excited.

But this morning I didn’t enjoy my front-row seat. The sound of angry, panicked starlings made me look up in time to see a big black crow land on the perch outside the nest cavity. The crow then just reached inside and plucked out a baby chick, as if the starling’s nest were at a fast-food take-out window. I was horrified. The crow flew off with the chirping chick in his beak and an entourage of adult starlings dive-bombing it.

Immediately, I tore out of the house and took off across the deck and down the stairs to the beach where the adult starlings had forced the crow to land. I paid no mind to the smelly seaweed and slippery rocks and ran as fast as I could manage in my slippers toward the flat shale where the crow had landed. The tiny chirps of the crow’s prey tugged at my heart. At a distance, I could see the crow pecking at the helpless chick. The adult starlings never relented with their swooping, but the crow paid no attention, as if these kamikaze birds were mere gnats.

I, however, was a much bigger threat. The crow noticed me. How could it not? I ran full tilt toward it, flailing my arms and yelling obscenities. I clapped my hands and urged Molly to, “Go get ‘em.” (She thought the impromptu run on the beach was great fun and something we should do more often.) The crow took off, and with relief I watched the little starling hop away and flutter its wings. When I was bent over recovering my breath and my sanity, I lost track of the chick.

After I straightened up, I looked around, but couldn’t find the chick. I assumed it had gotten away. I was about halfway back to the deck, when the starling’s racket started up again. I looked out to the beach toward the angry chatter to see that the crow had returned and had resumed pecking. This time I couldn’t hear any tiny chirps and I could only imagine that the poor chick I hadn’t been able to find had become a McMeal.

My heart broke a little bit. I wanted to kill that damn crow. It’s bloody lucky I’m such a crappy shot and haven’t learned to fly. I returned to the house mumbling death threats under my breath. I kept a watchful eye on the stump and within the hour, the starlings were back. They resumed their bug collection and delivery routine and I went back to my computer.

Eventually, I’ll get over it, just like the starlings, but for the time being, I’m going to be good and mad. And I don’t want to hear about how crows need to eat, too or it’s only natural, or that only the fittest survive or some other mother-nature crap. Mother Nature’s a bitch and crows are avem non grata round here for the time being.

Advertisements

About JP McLean

Author of The Gift Legacy, a contemporary thriller with a twist of fantasy that will leave you believing the impossible and wary of the night sky…
This entry was posted in Family Life, Island Life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Crow Rant

  1. Wendy Keeler says:

    I’ve been wondering a lot lately, who ever gave Nature the name “Mother”?! I chose to board up my bird houses, because the crows would sit on the roofs, bend their horrid heads down into the bird doorway, and picked out baby bird morsels, like they were popcorn. I too, went running across the yard in my slippers, clapping my hands and yelling. I was probably the entertainment that went with the popcorn. Watching this, my son would comment, “Crows are birds too, Mom…..”. Oh, not to me they’re not.

    Like

What are your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s