The crows are here. How very peculiar that the newspaper should report that they are migrating from the Vineyard to the Mainland. All evidence points to the contrary; the crows are at home and thriving on Martha's Vineyard. A raucous noise, high in the treetops, brought me off the sofa in the living room to the kitchen window. They swooped, they cawed, they alighted -- both singular and still. High in the limbs of the knotted oaks, that have been scrubbed and molded by a relentless wind, were the crows. They were like unruly children in a poorly-run cafeteria. My camera, ever-ready, was pushed to use to document this observation. These crows were not commuters. I hadn’t thought to use video until it was too late. Suddenly,
in a startling and abrupt motion, they dove off their perches and took wing. The trees that had been so full of cacophonous, unruly birds were vacant. The sky, so blue, was silent.
see Talking Crows, Day 162 3.7.12