Crow sentinels come and go from the top branches of The Crow Tree throughout the day and into early evening. It’s been happening for the last couple of weeks. Observing them distantly from my view on The Urban Porch, it appears to be the same one or two. Perhaps that is just my imagination, as I have no way of truly knowing if this is so.

Although slightly hopeful that they would be scouting out a place for a rookery and return en masse as they did a couple of years back, it is late in the season and that probably would have occurred by now (see Crow Tree – 4/9/22).

Sometimes one will rest there for a solid length of time, a dark paper cutout against the sky. One cannot help but get the impression that while watching them, they are also watching you. Often a single crow will land and then call out to the others, who swoop around, briefly alight, and then leave. But at least one always seems to return and remain again for a while – perched, watching, and reporting.

Their moody silhouettes against a background of ever-changing skies continually draws my eye upwards.

Standing beneath the crow trees isn’t a good idea, as they have become unstable and have dropped dangerous boughs from high above, so when I do walk the dog that way, we crisscross the street so as not to be directly underneath. A few days ago, a few yards beyond the tree, we encountered a lone crow on the grass dining on some unidentifiable substance. I wanted to imagine it was bread, but it did appear to be ripping up some kind of meat. Crow didn’t seem to be alarmed at the presence of the dog and I in the least bit, and continued eating while we stood a few feet away to watch.

I had hoped to capture the shimmer of dark blues on the feathers, which simultaneously reflected and yet absorbed light into their depth. But although we were pretty close, my photos are – unfortunately – not very focused, as I had the dog’s leash wrapped around my wrist and he kept pulling away, shaking my hand while I attempted to hold the camera still.

Unlike many dogs I have known, he had absolutely no interest in chasing this bird, instead wanting very much to get away from it. Perhaps the fact that the crow was about as tall as he was and seemed to possess a palpable element of chutzpah might have influenced his decision to put some distance between them.

Back atop the tree, I watch the crow preening.

The grooming contortions conjure up images of Indonesian shadow puppets in my mind.

Their cleaning rituals cause a few loose feathers to fall to the ground.

As the day wanes, the crow decides to leave its towering perch, as it noisily calls back and forth to others in the distance. I figure that might be all for this evening, but it returns a few more times to land, fluff itself, turn back and forth in a few directions, only to take off again. I would love to know what they are thinking.

Then finally, this dark shadow departs, heading somewhere west for the night. Maybe see you tomorrow?

~*~