Any profits from the sale of this picture or tee shirt are dedicated to the the Australian wildlife relief fund, dating from the terrible fires in Victoria.
The crow is perching on my large birdbath, peering in my window, demanding goodies from us, inside.
This guy spent the summer of 08 bothering the outside cats, chasing the squirrel around and around its own tree, trying to sneak up on the neighbor’s dogs when they slept, and generally caused riot and ruin in our quiet, country neighborhood. To the crow’s credit, it didn’t start this nonsense until its two children were fairly self-sufficient.
In September, just before the noisy crow rookery mob move south and our winter sets in, the mama of this pair made her two children take complete baths, one at a time, in our large birdbath, making sure each ducked its head all the way under, and that it rocked sideways on its belly in the water so its wing-pits were washed. Papa had to help with the second youngster, who did not want to duck its head. He had it fly down to him, talked with it quietly a minute, and then it went back and bathed properly. The next day the chidren, though still showing some baby-yellow at the corners of their beaks, left on the flight south with everybody else. Then it became too quiet, the squirrel collected nuts without being disturbed, and I missed the crows terribly.
Country folk, devoted parents, mischief-makers, cat chasers, bread-snatchers, dogs’ eyelash pullers, and when you listen to them, you realize that crows actually sound like ducks.