Barry and David

I love to anthropomorphize, which is fancy talk for attributing human qualities to non-human things. I do this with animals, plants, and even silverware. Nothing is safe. This time I picked crows. A flock of crows is called a “murder.” When they are driving out a raptor, like a hawk, by dive-bombing them, it is called “mobbing.” Murders and Mobs! What’s not to love? And if you’re lucky enough to gain the trust of a crow, it may bring you gifts.

I bring you, Barry and David.

“Barry! Hey Barry! Mind if I join you?”

Barry sighs.

“Sure.”

David settles in, shaking off the rain.

“Barry, if you don’t mind me saying so, you seem, I dunno, kinda down, bro. I bet it’s all that talk going around about how we make people sick and are ruining something called an economy, whatever that is. Can’t let it bug you, bro. Humans are crazy!”

“David, you’re mixing up covid and corvid.”

“What are you on about, Barry?”

“We are corvids. You know, crows, jays, ravens, and the like. Not covid. That’s different.”

“Wow, Barry, you are smart, bro.”

“All corvids are smart. Most anyway.”

“Well, then, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Really.”

Barry looks away.

“Are you sure, ’cause you’re just not the carefree life of the party like you used to be.”

“David, I have never been carefree, nor have I ever been the life of the party.”

“It’s Pamela, isn’t it. I bet it’s Pamela. I just KNEW it! Bro, you got to get over her! She’s been with Eddie for, like, a month now.”

Barry sighs. “It’s not Pamela. I’m over Pamela. Pamela can hook up with whatever mangy dude she wants. She can hook up with a Scrubjay for all I care.

“A Scrubjay!” David giggles. “That’s rich!”

They enjoy a few moments of comfortable silence, enjoying the view.

“You know, Barry, I don’t think she’s that into Eddie. Maybe come to the next murder, I bet you could win her back. Just touch up those flight feathers….”

“David! Listen to me. I have moved on from Pamela. I am fine. I am not depressed. I am not looking to reconnect with Pamela. I’m only two years old. Plenty more crows in the trees. I appreciate your concern, but, seriously, can we talk about anything else.”

“OK, bro! Lots of stuff to talk about. No more about Pamela. No more about her and Eddie. Case is closed. Key is thrown away. Into the lockbox it goes, my friend. Hey! I bet this will fluff your feathers! McDonald’s has changed their trash pickup days to Friday. And, they’ve cut back on pickups because of, I don’t know, drivers or something so that it will be PILED UP, BABY!! That’s tomorrow; I’m pretty sure. Wanna check it out? Go early?”

“I’m not really into McDonald’s. I’m trying to eat healthier. But thanks.”

“Oh, hey, that’s cool, and you are LOOKING GOOD, BABY! If Pamela could see you…oops.”

Less comfortable silence ensues.

“Oh! Hey! Some of us are getting a mob together. Wanna come? It would get your mind off…you know, things that I will not mention.”

“Depends. Who’s the target?”

“Some upstart. Red-tailed hawk. Can’t have that! Not in OUR territory, baby! Man, I love mobbing. Drives them NUTS, BABY!”

“When did you start talking like The Rat Pack?”

“Huh?”

“Baby this. Baby that. Like Sammy Davis Jr and Frank Sinatra.”

“Oh, I saw a movie of theirs at the drive-in. You know, a classic movie marathon. They were so cool!”

“Well, stop it. It’s worse than your Wizard of Oz phase. No matter what tree we were in, it was always, ‘There’s no place like home.’ And your toes always got tangled up trying to click your heels together.”

“Loved that movie! Hey! I bet those flying monkeys were covids, huh!”

“It’s CORVID, not covid, and the flying monkeys…oh never mind.”

“Ok bro. But you know what? The Annual Big Murder is coming up. You gotta come to that; you GOT TO. Because after there’s a mixer, and THEN there’s a Heckle and Jeckle movie marathon. Every single Heckle and Jeckle since 1946. Those magpies crack me up. One’s, like British and one’s, like from New York or somewhere, and all those crazy antics kill me!”

“I do enjoy a good Heckle and Jeckle.”

“Yeah! And you know there will be POPCORN BABY! I mean, you know, there should be tons of popcorn. Especially with all the people offspring there, dumping it everywhere. AND! I bet she, who won’t be named, will be there. I bet she’s dumped that loser, who won’t be named….”

“That doesn’t qualify as not talking about it.”

“Right! You are correctomundo! No more of…THAT nonsense. So you gonna come or what?”

“I dunno. I’ve never been to that drive-in. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Bro! It’s west of here before you hit the strip mall. There’s a big pointy sign.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. Seems kinda far.”

“It’s not! It’s like five minutes…AS THE CROW FLIES!!!”

Barry and David both laugh.

“That gets me every time, David. Ok, you’ve talked me into it.”

“Bro! That makes me so happy. I gotta go. I found a pretty button, and I wanna give it to my human. I need to get it before someone else does. I’ve given him six buttons, a set of keys, a rock, and a rat bone. This button will make it an even seven buttons!”

“Well, seven isn’t an…doesn’t matter. Thanks, David. I appreciate it. I’ll see you at the Murder.”

David takes flight, effortlessly gliding away, and circles back with some parting words.

“And start preening more, Bro! You look ragged! Your flight feathers are all cockeyed; I don’t care how healthy you eat. You have to look your best in case…you know! OK! Gotta gooooooo.”

The “go” trailed off as he played with the wind.

David sighs. He looks out over the neighborhood, does a touch-up preening, and heads over to the trash behind Whole Foods for a natural healthy dinner. Pamela was into healthy food…just maybe…