Thursday, October 13, 2011


I despise crows.


They're evil birds. Evil, I tell you. There's one right outside my window... on the grass... staring up at me like some great monster from a story of the undead. And a raven is supposed to be a harbinger of death. Ha. Crows are a lot worse. They're like little monsters sent by vampires to wake everyone up in the mornings with vicious causes of certain death. Well, wakefulness, but at 5:30am, wakefulness pretty much is a form of death. A couple of days ago, we had a giant flock of crows outside, there must have been at least thirty of the beasts.

I almost grabbed Bob's BB gun and went and shot them.

I'm fairly certain I would have gotten in trouble for that.

The only plus side I've ever found for crows is that there's a character in one of my very favorite books named Crow. Well. Actually, her name is Berthe Erica and only her last name is Crow. Everyone just calls her Crow though. And this book also has a character named Turtle. Well... Tabitha-Ruth "Alice" Wexler, but she's still just called Turtle. And turtles happen to be my favorite animal. How is that such an epic book would have characters named for both my favorite and my least favorite animal? I don't know. Ellen Raskin is just that good. The book is the The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin. And you really should read it, if you haven't.

So I think I'm back. After being blog-dead through May, most of June, July, August, and September, I might actually pull this thing back from the obscurities of nothingness. No promises though.

Now the crows are cawing again.


Don't go get the BB gun.

Don't go get the BB gun.

Don't go get the BB gun.

Can't. Shoot. Innocent. Crows.


1 comment:

  1. -gigglesgigglesgiggles-

    I have now thoroughly shot your theory about giggling.

    And you're posting on your blog again. I was very shocked by this. And happy.