Crow
I watch as you grip the tiny sapling in your strong beak and with a toss of your sleek head, rip it out of the mud. Just because you can. You won’t eat it. In fact, you proceed to rip it apart, casually, viciously. This avocado sapling has taken three months to sprout and you take three beats of my heart to destroy it.
You hop towards the water bath, the one I’ve just cleaned and refilled for the sparrows. There, you pause on the edge and call out a challenge to me: do your worst, woman. With a butt waggle, you deposit an offering in the clean water. I sit still, not reacting, and you respond with a fine show of aggression. You flex your wings, raise them in threat, though your clawed feet are poised to take off in lumbering flight if I were to make my usual move. This is the established pattern between you and I. You strew filth everywhere you go. Drop garbage into the clean water bath, bully my friends away from the feeder, make a mess of the beautiful granite with your droppings. You do all this to mock, to assert your dominance in this little world. I react to this aggravation by behaving badly. I yell, I scream, I brandish any missile that comes to hand. Not one has ever found its mark and so this is only a game we play. We both know the bald ugly truth.
Today is different. I choose to sit without reaction. Partly because it has been one of those days, filled with events and lacking even a moment’s solitude. The demands and needs of others have filled this day of mine. It has left me with no energy for you, old enemy. And partly because I may have done my share of growing older and wiser in these past days. The acknowledgement of things that can – and can’t – be changed. Of the former, I am only sure of myself – change has come, finally, later than expected, and so very welcome. Of the latter – the things I cannot change, and have no control over – there are too many to list. Your need to despoil my little green space is one such constant.
You seem disappointed with my torpor. You rally your forces, trying to raise the game, force a move. Your heavy body lands with an ominous thump on the feeder – you don’t eat the grain, you just play king of the castle and carelessly scatter the seeds far below. My sparrow friends line up, waiting for you to tire of this sport. Even their anxious chirping doesn’t get a rise out of me. Now your curiosity gains the upper hand. You flap back down next to the water, yes, the water that you have already soiled, and take a quick sip. It’s disgusting and you know this very well. You open your mouth to jeer but something stops you. Your beady eyes stare me down and then finally, you give up. I’m not much fun today, you decide. A quick ruffle of those oily inky feathers, one, two hops along the ledge and then you launch your heavy body into the air.
My few minutes of rest are up and I head to the kitchen. My head is throbbing but there are things that need to be done. Only a short time later, I hear your clamour. You keep it up until I return to the balcony. There you are, once again next to the water, mouth wide open in raucous call. My headache is much worse suddenly and I lose my temper. I move forward, intending to shoo you away, when I see it. The bone. Gristle and mud clinging to it. Perhaps a maggot or two along for the ride. I try not to look. You hop closer to it and nudge it with your beak, keeping an eye on me at the same time. I stare at you. You pick up the bone, and place it closer to my end of the ledge. You eye the bone, then your head tilts to one side. You may be questioning the wisdom of this…peace offering? Is that what it is? And suddenly, I think of the Magi bringing three gifts. I burst out laughing. You hop back, slightly alarmed. Then you pick up the bone and very deliberately, drop it in the water. You have not lost eye contact with me throughout this little drama. Finally, I surprise both of us with a reaction. I shout out a swear word and lunge forward. And for just one brief moment, I see the relief in your red eyes – the entertainment is back – before you scoop out the bone, waggle your tail feathers impertinently and fly away.
Alright then, we can be best enemies again.