This is the only word that can describe the noise of the crows coming in to roost one evening at the plantation.
It was a cacophony of the craw variety, and deafening as they all came to settle on the power lines, then moved off in swathes (regardless of time of arrival, so we believe it was some kind of hierarchy order) to the trees where we often walked Maggie during the day.
The following silence was eerie.
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