Crow posse

One afternoon as a third grader here in Maine, I returned home from school cradling a new prize in the form of a folk song snippet.

A musical duo known as Rosenshontz had come to perform in our school’s basement cafetorium, and included in their program was a recently-written song of that era, "The Garden Song" by David Mallett (a folk musician from Maine, coincidentally).

If you are unfamiliar, you can have a listen here. “The Garden Song” left such an abiding impression that fifteen years later, when I at last heard it a second time, Peter, Paul and Mary had only to sing out two bars before the imagery returned to me like an old acquaintance.

In his song, David Mallet likened the freedom experienced in his garden haven to that of the old crow up in “yonder” tree, and Noah’s and my crow posse brings these lyrics to life for us on the regular.

We have a principal trio of crows who call our yard home, but several other crows come around to fraternize. In the crows’ ongoing turf war with the blue jays, we recently witnessed our crow threesome arrange itself in a phalanx and then perform a series of synchronized bows. I cannot say for sure whether the swooping jay was duly impressed with this visual aid on crow solidarity…but Noah and I were.

On any given day you are the spectator to a heckling scene — whether the target be jays, hawks or turkey vultures. The crows have some stamina. One morning I clocked 90 minutes of their red-tailed hawk heckling before the hawk concluded that enough was enough, and went on his way. He looked unfazed, but like his ears were hurting, probably.

If you have not paused to take in some of your local crow theater recently, I recommend it. You already know they are cheeky and whip-smart, and oh my, the bathing regimen.

Noah determined that our place was in need of a small farm pond, and there you have it. We have a farm pond in progress. The crows dip themselves in the shallow perimeter, and for a few moments water globules hang in orbit around them as they flutter their wings with mad vigor.

As it turns out, there’s also a snack bar at their public bath. The crows have been indulging themselves on our community of green frogs, and thus have grown stout. Noah and I have such affection for our green residents, and yes, it’s awkward envisioning that their froggified fate is to wind up inside of our crows. Then again, I eat cute animals too…I said it so that you wouldn’t have to.