We were bemoaning our fate today at being locked in what we consider the famine paddock when our collective (herd) eye was drawn by the antics of a large group of crows on the lawn. Their usually raucous voices built to an ear-splitting cacophany and they worked themselves into such a state that eventually a brawl erupted. It seems the pears that grew in abundance this summer have fallen to the ground and begun fermenting. The crows gorge on these and attain a level of inebriation that rivals that of any human post hockey game celebration.
Eventually some of the bolder ones flapped drunkenly to the top fence rail and began strutting up and down , demonstrating their ability to "sing" while hopping on one leg and flailing their wings. Another crow would join the fray, shoving one of the others off the fence, causing another dust-up to ensue. Eventually the woman's head appeared at an upstairs window and, sounding very crow-like herself, she squawked at them to shut up. They looked offended but flopped and staggered off into the soy bean field.
It was my first encounter with the animal world on an alcoholic bender and I was frankly quite shocked. Jack tells me he has seen lots of this type of behaviour but it's usually the human component of the animal world that succumbs to the siren call. "Humins is worse - when they gits inta the sauce they gits crazy ideas, like wantin to jump on a donkey's back an pretend they's in a rodeo". I assured him that would never happen here and in fact my attorney is at the ready should I feel the woman has trampled my donkey rights.
When the woman mowed the lawn this afternoon she ran over all those fermenting pears and the place still smells like a distillery after a major leak in the main vat. Wait till the crows find out the bar has closed for the season. They're certainly mean drunks so maybe they'll turn their wrath on her. I'll watch in anticipation.