On our walk, a hundred crows, or what looked like a hundred crows–I didn’t count them–passed over our heads all calling to each other. I stood there, just gape-mouthed at how many of them there were. Not as many as collect on Vanderbilt’s campus, but many more than I’ve ever seen in the neighborhood.

And then I realized, I was standing there with my mouth open while birds flew overhead.

Probably not my wisest moment.


3 thoughts on “Crows

  1. That sounds wonderful! (But you knew I’d say that.) I think it’s bound to be a good, lucky sign, starting with the lucky fact that you (hopefully?) didn’t get bombarded.

  2. No, I didn’t get pooped on, and it was wonderful and weird. I mean, I spend a lot of time being aware of the crows in my neighborhood and there are normally very few. There’s the big guy who spends time in our yard. The two that follow us on our walks (though one of them may be the same as the guy in our yard) and whoever they call back to. But, at most, there’s ten crows in my immediate vicinity.

    Until this week. Now there’s ten times that many, all flying along in big flocks and calling to each other from the trees.

    I wonder what brings them all here?

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