Five minutes with four crows

Four crows flew down again to the lawn this morning. Quite amazing how interruptible one is when trying to write.

All wandered around for a bit. One got a better offer and flew away almost immediately.

The remaining three got together in a little circle. One wallowed in the weeds for a while, scratching its belly on the ground, scraping its wings with its beak, dry-bathing perhaps, or de-lousing. The other two stood around, then left for some desultory walking and pecking.

All three tried the red berries on the bush on the edge of the lawn - they must have been sour.

Standing just outside the garden, one pecked briefly at the lavender (funny, I've never seen a crow actually in the garden). Was it the weed bather? I don't know, I don't know which is which anymore. I've lost the pea in the pod.

One tried pecking for something underneath one of the Adirondack chairs. Three times it snapped forward and backward, abruptly, like a comic imagining a lurking ogre.

None of them made any sounds at all - there were no foxes around to hassle, clearly, not was it 5:00 a.m.

Five minutes was enough of this play (I can't believe any of it was serious feeding - more like sampling and spitting at a winery). All of us went back to work.