The “wicked-wabbit” was caught chomping on my little flower buds for the last time. Damn it, I’d had it. Another azalea bush gone. I called in the big guns and by that I mean my husband. Scott pulled out his rifle and in one crack shot took the critter out. It was a spectacular hit. I can hear city folk bemoaning the death of Bugs, but too much fauna had eaten too much of my flora. Country folk will undoubtedly appreciate the shot more than city folk might; that little rabbit flew two feet into the air before it hit the ground. Dead. It was a good death. There are huge plusses to marrying a Nebraska farm boy who grew up with rifles instead of a metrosexual who grew up with game boards.
Within a few moments we heard crows cawing and, looking out the window, sure enough, there were three crows taking turns circling the rabbit carcass. We’ve seen enough PBS and Nova series to know that crows are never to be messed with so we weren’t about to shoo them away. In fact, we liked them. They would take care of the rabbit.
I read a story in Weird News about a town that was being inundated with crows during their annual migration, eating plants, landing hundreds at a time on power lines, which frightened the locals and generally were wreaking havoc. The mayor was fed up, as was everyone else in town, so the mayor declared open season on crows. The town folk went wild shooting crows. Sadly, it did not end well for the town folk. The next year and every year afterwards the crows, remembering the shootings of their friends and relatives, did not stop in that town but instead would fly overhead a few times each day shitting on everything and causing much more damage than previously before leaving town again.
Crows are romantics. They usually mate for life. During the winter months, they'll congregate with hundreds or even thousands of their peers to sleep together at night in a sprawling communal roost. During the day, a group of crows is called a murder of crows. Poetic.
Relative to its body size, a crow’s brain is huge, accounting for 2.7 percent of the bird's overall weight. By comparison, an adult human's three-pound brain represents 1.9 percent of its body weight. They are the smartest animals in the kingdom. Many experts compare crow intelligence to that of a 7-year-old human child. Crows recognize human faces, communicate complex concepts with other crows, and think about the future. These outstanding birds are able to read traffic lights, and speak different dialects that they can change with each new murder encountered. And, when they die, their fellow crows oftentimes hold a funeral. Very civilized.
In the meantime, we continued to watch this rabbit feast with interest from the safety of our breakfast nook. It appears that the dominant crow allows two or three smaller crows to chow down, then shoos them away, cackles loudly and allows a few more crows to land and nosh; they share more readily than humans do. In no time that rabbit was picked almost clean. By early afternoon there wasn’t much left other than the fur and some remains on the skeleton; so much for lucky rabbit’s feet.
After the crows had their way with the carcass, the vultures arrived to finish the job. By the next morning the entire animal had disappeared. Some intrepid vultures must have decided to use the bones to pick their teeth clean and a female must have asked to have the fur made into a collar for the winter migration. (If you really love me, Harold, you will have that fur made into a collar for me; the other vultures will be so jealous.) The animal kingdom and the circle of life reigns once again.
No comments:
Post a Comment