Clarence

We don’t live alone up here on the ridge—new neighbors seem to appear all the time. A full-blown murder of crows has taken up residence in the pines and poplars out front—like they’re running some kind of gothic Airbnb up there. It has been fun to watch them from inside the house, but to be honest, they’ve given me weird vibes every time I’m out working in the yard or even walking down the driveway. At least one of them will stop chattering, swivel its head, and with those beady little eyes, follow my every move. Just weird, you know?

The other day, I’d had enough. I watched him watching me as I sauntered part way down the driveway, then back again. He stared at me, no matter which way I went on the drive. When I moved to the west, into the front yard, I swear he looked like he was going to break his neck, craning to see me!

“Enough already,” I half-whispered, as I marched into the house. I went straight to the pantry, found the rarely used box of aluminum foil, tore off a four-inch-wide full length strip, crumpled it a little, and purposefully strode back to the drive. I’d read somewhere—probably a Reddit thread titled Crows: Feathered Geniuses with Vengeful Agendas—that you should never make enemies with them. They remember. Like, grudge-holding grandmother levels of memory.

I also read they are exceptionally fond of shiny things. Think raccoons with wings and higher SAT scores. So, there I was, mumbling under my breath, trying to make friends with a crow by presenting a gift of torn, fairly crumpled aluminum foil. I carefully placed it on the ground and started to back away, but in the half second it took to begin stepping back, Clarence (that’s right, if we’re going to be friends, you are going to have a TRR name!) swooped down from the top of the 80-foot tree, grabbed the foil, and immediately returned to his previous perch.

I was so startled, I couldn’t move for a few seconds, but then I yelled into the sky, “You’re welcome, buddy!”  

All of the chattering stopped. It quickly became obvious the entire group was readying for flight, and scenes from Hitchcock’s “The Birds” began flooding my brain. If they had flown in my direction, I probably would have died on the spot. Instead, they flew due north, away from me and TRR. I am okay with not having seen them since.