Murderous Crows

I had an extra crow round, today: Mr. Crow showed up for his afternoon snack with not one but TWO crowlings in tow! I grabbed my camera, hoping to snag a family portrait, but no sooner had I raised my lens than it slipped through my fingers and struck me right on that sensitive bit along the breastbone, causing me to emit a sound not unlike a hungry crowlet, myself. Both young birds made a break for it, at that point. Their father, it seems, is made of sterner stuff: he barely spared me a glance. He didn’t even twitch his wings. Apparently, he’s used to my antics, and not impressed.

My efforts at starling photography met with no greater success. While my new starling visitor is a frequent feeder — I noticed him at least fifteen times, today — he’s not much of a poser. He arrives, grabs a few seeds, digs up my planter, and flies away. Nobody likes a picture of a bird with its face in the dirt, or half-hidden by the feeder, which leaves me two main opportunities to snap him: immediately upon arrival, and just prior to departure. Of course, the first of these windows is short: he doesn’t tarry long, before attacking the seed. And the second window — well, he dawdles a bit on the railing, which is all very well…only, he’s pointing the wrong way, isn’t he? — looking out over the courtyard, with his tail in my face. Anyone who’s seen a starling knows the tail’s not the pretty bit. It’s just a regular old brown tail. What a snore.

So, ehh, here are my pictures, for today:

A promo shot for "The Birds," perhaps?

A promo shot for “The Birds,” perhaps?

My starling visitor, with his feet cut off.  But, hey, this is proof he exists!

My starling visitor, with his feet cut off. But, hey, this is proof he exists!

And one from my morning walk:

Some leaves.

Some leaves.

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