I had a dream last night about crows, or should I say one particular crow.
I have no idea how it came to be in our possession, or why it latched on to us, but we had released it into a field of other crows and were driving away when we saw it following us, obviously not wanting to be left behind.
The first thing that greeted me when I opened the front door this morning to take Maggie out for her walk, was a crow. It was sitting on next door’s roof, and when I appeared, looked me straight in the eye, cawed at me and then flew off.
Years ago, my Dad rescued a jackdaw and nursed it back to health. It was never a family pet as such, but there are pictures of me aged about 3 with this jackdaw which I was told stayed with us for some considerable time.
Hubby and I found this little chap on the wall, a young fledgling taking a breather.
Crows are not my cup of tea at all, though it is surprising that their feathers are not actually ‘black’. Hubby had to despatch one which was being eaten alive by magpies.
I’ve never liked magpies since.
I found this when looking up feather colours and it makes fascinating reading.