Crows I have known

 When I started leaving peanuts in the yard each morning, the crows were not the only ones to notice. The neighborhood gray squirrel came over to investigate as well.  This squirrel has grown fat off horse chestnuts all fall. I watched him expertly balance as he ran along the phone line two stories up like a tight-rope walker with a tail, carrying a horse chestnut in his front two paws. In the urban wildlife landscape, squirrels are the true acrobats. So now this squirrel has noticed free peanuts on the yard every morning, and is not afraid to lay claim to it. To misquote Robert Frost, "He things all peanuts are his by rights."* So I've unwittingly created a scarce resource for which there is now conflict. This morning I sat watching by the window while a young crow paced back and forth looking right and left, waiting for the right opportunity to leap up onto the peanut rock. No sooner did she do that, than a larger crow swooped down to claim her spot. She moved over, def

We moved to a new city, and I wasted no time looking for crows, because that's what I do.  I saw them from a distance, the family of crows. They hung out in a vacant field where there used to be a diner. At times they were in the bank parking lot. Other times they were outside the bowling alley, coexisting with a flock of seagulls. Every morning before walking the dogs, I filled my pockets with peanuts. When the crows were out I left them tiny offerings of peanuts. Little piles of peanuts at the bank, the bowling alley, the vacant field. It didn't take them long to notice, because crows are clever birds and they really like peanuts. They also have a birds-eye view, so it didn't take them long to figure out where the peanuts came from. One morning returning from a walk, I saw a crow perched on the phone line waiting for me. "Hello," I said, "this is where I live. Hold on, I'll get you more peanuts." Now I just feed the crows in the front yard each mor