The crows and me, we rely on each other. We’ve created a daily habit. I lay food on the murders’ rock. Good stuff like chicken and pork fat, bones, bread and food gone amuck. They recognize and acknowledge me with their non-melodic caw, caw, caws, but only from afar, even after our countless ritualistic mornings. I’m talking a commitment of years and in all kinds of weather. They glide down from their lookout limbs onto crow rock to grab and go… Read more »

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