Corona and the crow!!

No, I don't really appreciate someone leaving their lateral flow test device in the park... but CD did.

I was conversing with Divo and Diva when I saw someone doing aerobatics above me.

To put this in context, a girl with a lovely Golden Retriever was in the park. She was eating a roll and watched me feeding the crows. She saw me fuss her dog but tell her not to disturb the eating crows (I'd fed the Brave Three). Later, she tore up the end of her roll and threw it to the crows. The gulls noticed, but the crows got there first... and the crows could not resist teasing the gulls by flying chases with bread in their beaks.

This is a crow thing. I came across this video report of a research study in which a man makes friends with rooks and they do the same thing. It's annoying as the rooks feed from his hands. But anyway. It's not short but is worth the watch. And the rooks tease the gulls.

To get back to my story, as there had already been some aerobatics, I guess my unconscious was primed for it and I saw that CD had something that he repeatedly transferred between his feet and his beak. It's a remarkable manoeuvre as when the crow reaches down to his feet, surely his aerodynamics change dramatically and he must adjust to that - as he didn't seem to lose any altitude, though he did lose velocity.

He landed with it in his feet and stood on it looking at me expectantly. I threw a treat to the side so that I did not scare him and went to see what it was. Then I left some treats by it to see if he was interested in playing with it again. Of course not, he had treats to cache.

Before this, I had already experienced a crow 'high'.

I had watched CD cache a treat and went over to see how well it was hidden. Remarkably well. Without the dog's nose or previous spying, you'd have no clue it was there.

I crouched down and dropped a treat a few feet away. Closer than ever. Almost in reach. CD inched over, slowly, crouching, sideways, looking up at me with his left eye. He could have taken it but the wind rustled my bag and he backed off. I felt sad... that I might have lost trust. I squashed down the bag and put another a foot further away than the first one.

CD just stood there. A black statue.

So I spoke to him, softly, saying 'Caw caw caw.'

And with that he started to move!! When he hesitated, I cawed again and he came closer once more. He came all the way to the treat nearest to me, took it, and went over to the second one, a little further off, but still closer than usual, and proceeded to get them in the right position to pick up both together.

It felt special. To see him that close. To hold myself in crow-companionship. To negate all threateningness. To be trusted that much.