FOXES AND CROWS

Today I saw a hawk catch a crow. He enraged three others as he held the ugly creature in his talons. They squawked and squawked for their fallen comrade.

The hawk was so proud. He sat so tall that I honestly thought that he was an eagle for a split second. This hawk was in the same area that I saw a red tail hawk three years ago. I'm not as astute about the kind I saw with another today. The other had no crow, unfortunately.

Now I don't usually enjoy seeing the little guy get devoured. These foxes, for instance. We had a red fox or two in our MTV woods for several years, but I never saw a baby. I always liked the fox in our woods, even when one day he tried to coax our cat over to him. Wisely, I threw the cat, Cujo, back into the house.

But crows are so nasty. Even a little crow. I have a bad relationship with a murder, is that crazy or what--their flock is called a murder, that nest on our street. I irritate them when I go for my daily walk. They try to dive bomb me. I clap, I squeak at them in an awful screech that I'm blessed with, and I even throw rocks at them when they're out of house range. No luck. They return. So do I. By the way, I'm not the iniatiator. If they leave me alone, I'll ignore their ugly selves.

Maybe next time I'll bring a hawk or two. Or even two cute little foxes. I wonder what a flock of foxes is called?

Nevermind. I just remember. When I was in South Africa I bought our granddaughter and me shirts that proclaimed what flocks were called. A crash of rhinos, a journey of giraffes, a pride of lions, a herd of elephants, a clan of hyenas, a drift of warthogs, a paddling of ducks, a litter of wild dogs, a murder of crows, a dazzle of zebras, a chorus of frogs, a troop of baboon, a walk of snipe, a bale of turtles, a colony of matabele ants, a raft of hippo, a plague of locusts, a leap of leopards, a parliament of owls, a herd of buffalo, and a skulk of bat-eared foxes.