My pets - Poem

For over a year now, I have been feeding wild animals. It began with birds, then I added ducks and now it seems to include squirrels and an occasional racoon. It brings me joy and I enjoy getting multiple visits from the ducks as they walk up for their feeding to my back patio.

From my kitchen table, that acts as my desk during the work week, I see the birds fly in to feed in what seems like shifts. The order sometimes varies but usually begins with blue jays and cardinals, then the pigeon plops down (they cannot seem to land without a thud). Next are the woodpeckers and brown-headed cowbirds. A squirrel or two sometimes two will sneak up, sit in the middle of the food pile while other birds fly in and gingerly grab their pieces from the outer rims.

Then comes the pièce de résistance, the crows. They come in groups of 3 or 4 and the pattern is always the same. The scout lands on the garage roof. As he or she surveys the area, if things appear safe, a flurry of ‘caws’ begins. This, I can imagine, is the call for the others to join as soon as I see large midnight black birds swoop in and land in the grass by our patio. The ‘caws’ continue as the new arrivals hop up to the patio and begin feeding. The scout then swoops down to join the group. No other birds join the feeding while these crow’s feast. The only one brave enough is the squirrel, but he or she seems very skittish around the crows, especially if there are more than one. By the way, crows hop while ravens walk. That is one way to tell the difference.

The crows are very skittish. They see me watching them, and any slight movement can send them scattering. They see me bring the food out, but still keep their safe distance. I hope to build trust with them someday. The scout watches me as I work; the rest do too. Their heads tilting left to right and side to side, they are always on alert. They watch me and I watch them.

This ritual and sort of dance is very entertaining to me, and one that puts me at ease. In fact, as I sit here this morning and write this post, I have the windows open. I can hear the crows ‘cawing’ in the distance. I know they will soon be on my patio getting their fill before flying away to their nest with full bellies. This pattern with the crows and other birds happens over and over throughout the day. It always brings a smile to my face and some peace to my soul.

Here is my attempt at a poem about crows:

Caw, caw, caw, the crow cries, as they fly overhead.

Black as night, they seem to hide in the shadow of the trees.

They are clever; they are wise, and they watch us from afar.

They know our secrets, and they see everything we do and say.

So be careful what you do when the crows are watching you.

For they know what you think and will certainly tell the other crows too.

Until next time.

Tim