Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The language of crows

A murder of crows (what a wonderful term!) passed overhead on my morning walk today, swooping and diving and weaving and soaring and practically flying into each other, all while making a deafening racket that was loud enough to wake the dead. What does it mean, all that cawing and shrieking and rowdiness? Have they spotted a hawk or an eagle nearby? Has one of their number died? Are they announcing that there's good eatin' in the dumpster behind the doughnut shop? Or are they just raising hell for the hell of it?

No comments:

Post a Comment