Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Shocked, I tell you. Shocked.

I rose early. Quite early. About 0300 or so. The dog wanted out and I’d slept myself out – sometime after Hannity started and boredom set in.

Anyhow, I set the dog out, grumped my way through several cups of coffee and was planning my day when the sun came up. The weather is great, by the way. The sun revealed  ground fog drifting in the no wind conditions, flirting with the grasses and the trees, turning the morning mystic and cool.

The quiet was shattered by the crows call; three demanding coarse calls and silence. Three calls and silence.

I was immediately transped ort to yesteryear; to the  mountains of Montana and camping trips and early mornings. And reminded once again of hunting trips where one stumbles across a flock of crows in the mountain meadows where many of the birds gather in the fall .

This morning I also wondered where these things come from. I don’t remember seeing any young crows, nor any nests, nor any activity of normal birds. No eggs, no mating rituals, no . . ., anything, except adult birds flying about making noise or standing regally in the middle of some grassy expanse somewhere.

But this morning, looking out to the road, there stood two crows. One voicing the coarse calls in groups of three, one pretending to peck in the grass, both drifting toward one another, the caller more aggressive.

As the birds came within six feet or so of each other I could hear the aggressive bird humming to the other – umm, yes. Humming. Almost a tongue trill.  They circled each other, the humming ceased.

The smaller bird turned its  back, the larger, more aggressive hopped away and began the three call repetitions, the smaller then flew.

Shocked, I tell you. Shocked.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey.

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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