We have a lot of crows out here in Seattle. I see them EVERYWHERE. And since my house is in an area where there used to be an orchard, there are a lot of fruit trees in the neighborhood. So they are all up in my shit constantly.
I have a love/hate relationship with crows. On the one hand, they are nature’s trash cans. Which I love for the convenience. If the kids drop a piece of food in the driveway, I can leave it there and know that when we return from our outing, it will be gone. And I get to tell myself I fed a hungry animal. The win is all mine.
But I have had a few run ins with crows lately that have left both sides embarrassed and angry. It’s become kind of a “thing” now…….it’s all very awkward. In particular — I hate to point fingers — but the crows at the Magnolia playground appear to have some sort of gang initiation going on, because they are VERY aggressive. Indeed, their kung fu is strong.
Now, I have never said I am a reasonable, grown up person. And the fact that I have a personal vendetta against crows (who, by the way, are VERY intelligent so…….you know…….it’s not like I’m picking on the slow kid, here) should tell you that.
Bring your A-game, bitches.
I have been to the Magnolia playground twice. Once was a year or two ago, when the kids were still in diapers. I had my big ol’ diaper bag filled with diapers and wipes and creams and snacks and water. And I threw a protein bar in the outside pocket, which was a pretty smooth move for me since I usually forget to bring anything for myself and then end up starving and left with NO OTHER CHOICE but to eat the kids’ fruit snacks. Or those chocolate-covered granola bars that the kids wanted at Target and I knew that if I was stuck in the woods for a week…….or on I-5 for 20 minutes…..I would also enjoy.
So that first time at the playground I was a naive fool. I left my diaper bag with my protein bar sticking out of the outside pocket over on the other side of the playground while I pushed my kids on the swings. Well, if I didn’t look up to see one of those son of a bitch crows jump on my bag, claw open the pocket, and fly away with my protein bar!
Oh I was pissed. Didn’t say, “Ah well, to the victor goes the spoils. Well played, crow.” No no. I walked over there, fueled by low blood sugar and the feeling that I had been grievously violated. I said, “Alright! If that’s how you’re going to behave then NOBODY gets the protein bar!!” Shooed the crows away, and threw the protein bar in the trash. IN THE TRASH, PEOPLE. Petty? Perhaps. Taught those crows a lesson? Definitely no. Served my sense of justice? ABSOLUTELY.
So the other day the kids and I went back to the Magnolia playground. And let me tell you, I carried our shit EVERYWHERE. I would sit on a bench, put the bag beneath my legs, and toss my jacket over the top. Those fuckers were going to have kill me AND eat though some Eddie Bauer before they got these snacks. But I did watch them get another woman’s sandwich. She must have been new, and unlearned in the ways of the Magnolia Murder (that’s the name of their gang, obviously). I would have helped her, but I knew the second I walked away from my bag I was going to be down a bag of grapes.
It’s every man for himself on the playground, son.
By the way, did you know that crows are able to construct and use tools? Yeah. They can. Oh, and my pal Meg recently informed me that they can recognize people’s faces. So, I’ll go ahead and add that to the nightmare.
First, I take your crackers. Next, your children.
Pile of Babies 