A Murder of Crows

Mark and I got a rare chance to spend the afternoon together sans kids. My mom graciously agreed to take both kids and so we ran off gleefully to see a movie, sharing a sandwich beforehand and smuggling in a couple of lemonades. I was deeply disappointed to discover the movie theatre didn’t have a problem with you bringing in outside drinks, just food. There go all my sneaky powers, used up on a useless sneak. Why hadn't I thought to shove a meatball in my bag?

The two of us were positively giddy with all that freedom and as we headed home to feed the dog, we rounded the corner and Mark slowed down the car. Hundreds of crows were everywhere. Lawns, houses, telephone wires, EVERYWHERE. It was like every crow in a hundred mile radius had been somehow summoned to this street corner and with the bad rap crows have, we could only assume they were up to no good.

“Whoa.” Mark breathed.

“Now that’s what you call a Murder.” I said.

“Yep.” Mark agreed. We just sat there watching them for a while, glad that we were on a quiet street without any other cars to urge us forward. When Mark finally let go of the brake the movement of the car sent the birds into flight, swirling upwards towards the clouds and cawing in a deeply creepy way.

Tippy Hedren, I so get you now.