The Crows patrol around the fringes of the Secret Park, looking for food. The Park forms the dark, wild heart of our village, between the main street and back street. Earlier, Iain saw a Red Kite take advantage of their absence, raiding the nests for potential eggs.
I bought a ‘fat tray’ with nuts and put it on the top of the bird table. Watched a Hoodie Crow (Jackdaw) fly in and peck it quickly. Wary of dogs.
Planted seeds. Winter may be all around, but Spring sleeps in the soil, waiting to awaken. Warmth, water, sun and seeds. Life Alchemy.
It landed over night and submerged the crow garden. Beautiful, cold and muffling. The crows are silent this morning.
I’m travelling the bus back from Dumfries and I am thinking about the trees full of crows overlooking our garden.
Yesterday, I was talking to one of the patrons of the library who declared
“something ought to be done about those crows. They should be culled.”
I was quietly horrified, but I didn’t declare it because I have learned it’s best to leave octogenarians to thier views. Even so, the very thought gives me chills! I want to make friends with those crows, of all the birds they offer me the most fascination because of their keen minds and the world they make their own in the treetops.
I wonder what kitchen scraps I have for them today….