A thousand dark birds

This morning after the rain there was a great noise outside, such a cacophony of crows that Eddy ran to the door and barked.  The two dogs leashed, we stepped into the wet driveway together.

It looked like an audience of a thousand dark birds, flapping their way from tree to tree far above, calling frantically to one another.  "Dog! Dog! Dog! Dog!"  Indeed, the dogs were the first to notice. There in the driveway, still limp from life, lay a single silent crow. I put Ed and Reub back in the house.

It seemed important to be careful when I returned. The crows became quieter, but they observed every move as I took pictures, the sad, respectful investigator at the scene of a crime.

She was so perfect.  If I had desecrated one feather, there is no doubt that the watchful flock gathered in the fir trees would have descended in fury.

 I buried her in the soft duff below the leaves, the crowd above dispersing in twos and threes, the drama playing itself out. Her death had been duly noted by all.

Within You, Without You, acrylic painting by Nancy Watterson Scharf, 2012

This was a sad beginning to the day but I am strangely grateful. Cocooned in a warm house, distracted by my easy world, it is good to be reminded of the lives of birds.