Hatfields and the McCoys

by Jamie Lutton

This morning, I was leaving for work, and I heard a crow call, but could not see it. I was still on my lanai, and I looked right, left and up.

I crossed the street so that I could look up and scan the trees. I didn't see anything at first, until one crow made an appearance. It cawed and cawed; from a high branch, but did not come down lower. A second crow joined him in the spring foliage. They both hopped from tree to tree, cawing at me overhead, sort of frantically. One landed at my feet, not too close. It was a mature crow; fat and bold.  I put down a small handful of peanuts, and a few  dog treats. He landed by the treats, and cawed very loudly. Then, the whole family showed up; another fat crow and a skinny yearling. Must be the whole family.  I walked away, and then another crow landed near me,  about 100 feet away from the other crows. I looked back, to make sure it was not one of those three. No, it was a different crow.  His family showed up, and identical paring of another fat adult crow and a yearling.

When I put an identical pile of treats down, I got to see that, yes, I was right, there was a North and a South family.  They also saw each other, and cawed at each other while they ate.  One of the South nest few away as I walked away, to escort me up the street, uphill, overhead,and get a few more treats.

So, it is one crow  from the North family that flies up to my apartment, and a different crow, one from the North family that walks me up the street.   I am positive, now.

Nice to know I have so many crow friends - and so close to home.

My mother, who was Southern, would have called that friendship "cupboard love". That is what she called my dog begging in the  kitchen for scraps, decades ago.