On this first day of December, the north wind has a bite which awakened Spencer and I the moment we stepped outside to greet the day with a gassho.A slight frosting of yesterday's snow still remains on the old box elder (Manitoba maple) tree in the south-east corner of the garden behind the little blue house in the village. With its thousand and one winding branches and artfully curling twigs, the old tree is a thicket all by itself, and I am not alone in loving it - the tree is the preferred perch for crows just after sunrise.
Fluffed up against the wind, the dark birds wait for their breakfast (whatever remains of Spencer's meal from the previous evening) to be brought out and placed under the tree. We think of it as an offering of sorts, and the crows are always pleased. Is our morning group "a murder of crows"? We prefer to call the wily assembly " a rowdy of crows".
Happy December!
3 comments:
Once again I am smiling and I love the way you have made me like crows...even though I find them loud and bawdy and so mean when they chase away the owl.
Good afternoon Cate,
Your blog is so uplifting, yes I've also come to like crows no matter how much noise they make in the yard.
Have a good day.
Louise
Love your photos I'm missing the crows around the farm a little. Down here in the desert, I've been seeing ravens rather than crows. They seem to have been around at almost every place I've camped. They can be so comical at times - getting into things around the campsite.
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