I watched the huge ebony crow splash most of the water out of the birdbath. The window over my desk gave me a front row seat to his ablutions. When he finished, I waited to see what would happen when my regular feathered visitors showed up. Two California scrub jays had been daily guests. I enjoyed watching the jays stare at me defiantly through the window while they splashed until they were thoroughly drenched, and I hoped the bigger bird didn’t scare them off.
As the crow finished his bath, one of the jays flew from a nearby tree and screeched at him. To my surprise, the sneak attack worked and the crow left, loudly proclaiming his outrage.
Poe’s raven came to mind.
From then on, I thought of the crow as Edgar. He came to bathe regularly and then began bringing pieces of stolen food to soften in the birdbath before he ate them. There were peanuts still in the shell, chunks of bread, and Cheez-Its. Strictly vegetarian, but I couldn’t imagine where he was finding it all. The blue jays began visiting less often, especially when two additional crows, juvenile offspring of Edgar, began to follow dad to the bath and try to steal the food he brought to wash. I couldn’t resist naming them Allan and Poe. They were delightfully playful and fascinated by the solar fountain I added to a second birdbath.
When a hummingbird hovered in the fountain spray one morning, I added hummingbird feeders to the mix. Factor in the young wild rabbits scouring our yard for food, and I have the perfect setting for not writing. My hope that the wildlife antics outside my window would inspire ideas for stories hasn’t panned out, but life is so much more fun now so how can I complain?
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