This is my friend Crow sitting out on the ice in the morning, waiting for me to wake up. It may be the holidays but not for crows. Every day is about getting that next meal. Look at this poor guy! It's scary. As I understand it, birds have to maintain an internal temperature of about 105 degrees. How does a bird survive northeast winters? I don't get it.
Some mornings he'll be waiting for me high in a tree, perched on a leafless branch that provides no cover. He just sits there, constantly buffeted by the wind, and waits for me. How do they do this?
Ah, but this post is about talkin' crow so I'd best move on. And by talkin' crow, I mean me talkin' crow. Here's how it happened. I noticed that one crow (who I think is my original pal, Crow) alerts the others when I throw out the peanuts. He gives three short, almost connected caws: "Ca-ca-ca!" This means, "Dinner is served!" (or possibly, "The fool is throwing away perfectly good peanuts again!" I'm not sure.)
So now when I throw out the morning's peanuts I announce it with their call, doing my best impersonation of, "Ca-ca-ca!" I must say Crow looks at me oddly when I do this. He tilts his head to the side and locks eyes with me for a moment. But then it's all peanuts all the time, so it's not like my language skills hold his attention for long.
I will feed Crow and his family until the day I die. He can count on it. And I sure wish Spring would come soon so he could be warm again (and I could watch baseball).