As The Crow Flies
As I left my apartment this morning, I was suddenly confronted with two very angry crows who proceeded to continuously dive-bomb me as I walked down the front steps. At first I thought they were after the day-old scone I was planning to eat for breakfast on my way to the bus stop, however, despite their shreiking, the pastry remained untouched atop the large mound of plastic bags and bottles I was taking down to the recycling bin.
My co-worker had mentioned yesterday that she'd been attacked by crows while walking during her lunch break; apparently, they were after strands of her hair (which has a nice, shiny silvery tint to it), presumably as nesting material. So, on my way through the yard I was beginning to wonder if indeed there was some sort of Hitchcockian avian mass mindset at work here. Were the crows finally revolting, taking the first fledgling steps toward eventual World Domination?
As it turns out, in my case at least it was something rather more prosaic. When I reached the gate at the front of the yard that leads to the steps going down to the street, I encountered a juvenile crow, probably two or three months old sitting on the cobbles directly in front of me, its pin feathers in disarray from the rain. As I got closer, the two airborn birds (obviously the parents) increased their attack, swooping down ever closer and thrashing through the trees to send heavy sprays of rain water pouring down on my head. The little nestling immediately began flapping its wings and with some effort proceeded to trundle back up the walkway in an attempt to escape my threatening proximity, so I just stepped aside and waited for it to pass by, while Mom and Dad continued to harrass me from above. It was clearly having difficulty trying to get off the ground, and I had serious doubts as to whether it could get aloft successfully on it's own. But, I also knew that trying to pick it up probably would have been the worst thing I could have done -- for both of us -- and so I cautiously backed through the gate carrying my bundle of recyclables.
The adults continued to harangue me all the way down the steps and out onto the sidewalk, where I deposited my articles in the appropriate bins and headed off for the bus stop a few blocks away. After about 50 feet or so, they ceased their cawing and turned their attention back to their offspring, presumably still earthbound.
Good thing too, I thought as I began munching on my scone, Because the neighbors' cats are going to be a much bigger problem than me.
on 11:49 AM