City crows

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 morning. No more chasing the crows all over town - now they come to me. They know they'll get peanuts at 7:15 a.m. when we leave for the first dog-walk of the morning, coinciding with the school bus pick-up time.

On weekends we sleep in and there's no 7:15 walk, so the crows caw from the trees outside my window. This morning they woke me up out of a sound sleep. "Crows..." I said to myself sleepily, as I stumbled downstairs to throw on coat and boots to bring a cupful of peanuts to the yard.

I had started out with the purpose of befriending these city crows, to train them to trust me and recognize me. I succeeded in that. But they have trained me as well.