Every day my crows hear the loud beeping sound my red golf cart makes when I put it in reverse, and they watch me from the trees. One of the crows begins to caw faster to alert his family. He's the watcher. He knows what’s coming. When I pull up to feed them, in all of the entire meadow, they choose to deliberately fly over the cart. When it's sunny, their shadow passes over me. I think it's a salute, their way of saying, "Thank you!"
Friday morning two of my four crows were waiting in a poplar tree near the porch, perched together on a limb, looking into the window to let me know they were ready for their peanuts. I was trying to drink my first cup of coffee, but they sailed into a fly-by past the porch to make sure I saw them. It was 32 degrees outside that Friday morning. The crows didn’t care.
The next Tuesday morning a landscaper came to our house with a grinder to grind down a number of troublesome old stumps, one of which is in the area where I feed my crows. The grinder was noisy, but my crows had already let me know it was past time for their peanuts. I knew they wouldn't fly near that loud machinery. I decided to take a chance and scatter peanuts in the driveway. I soon regretted the decision because I realized I needed to leave on an errand, and I figured I'd have to sweep up the peanuts. What happened next was a comedy. In about five minutes after I tossed out the peanuts, my crows swooped down. They were picking up at least two peanut hulls in their beaks at a time. One tried to carry three, but he ended up having to drop it and come back for it a few moments later.
My crows don't eat the peanuts where they find them. They fly off, eat, and fly back for another peanut. Sometimes they pass each other coming and going. That day it was as if they had found a treasure. In minutes, the driveway was picked clean.
Yesterday morning, I had an appointment, and I didn't have time to feed my crow family before I left. Hugh was outside on his tractor when, suddenly, a crow flew down and landed in front of him fairly close. The crow began to jump up and down and caw with a loud voice. Hugh yelled, "She's not here. She'll feed you when she gets back home." Now I have my husband talking to the crows, too! The tractor was loud, but the crow refused to move before finally giving up.
When I returned home, I scattered peanuts later than usual. There were no crows at the feeding spot, but there were blue jays and squirrels. Blue jays are corvids, too, and they're greedy, so I'm not sure how many peanuts the crows managed to find when they finally flew in.
This morning, I guess all was forgiven. I received a fly-over crow shadow passing by my cart when I tossed out their peanuts in the usual place. Sometimes it's tempting to stay in bed on cold mornings, but my crows give me a good reason to get moving. We'll see what tomorrow brings for my little feathery friends. They always look so sweet, flying off, satisfied, carrying at least one whole peanut hull in their beaks, maybe more, their little legs and feet hanging down as they fly. That's the only crows' feet I like.