The Minnesota Farm Woman

I don’t remember seeing many crows when I lived in the city. Oh, I’m pretty sure they were there, but I first noticed them when they would fly toward my car from the side of a country road and startle me just enough that I would put my foot on the brake. Every time. It took me that whole first summer to get used to them. Nobody pays that much attention to the lowly crow, unless they are pulling up the farmers’ corn sprouts and seeds from the fields or harassing some poor gal from the city trying to be a Farm Woman. Crows are extremely intelligent and if trained, can count and even speak a few words. Back in those days, they were probably saying, “Get ready guys, here she comes again!” The crows around our house are pretty smart, too. They must have heard the old adage that the early bird gets the worm, because they are caw-cawing at the crack of dawn. Last week, it was 4:45 and since the days are growing shorter, they let me sleep in until 4:55 this morning. These country crows must be eating a lot of worms, too, because they are almost as big as my chickens. The bigger they are, the louder they caw, too. They seem to be calling to each other, reporting the worm and/or bug status underneath my bedroom window. Once they start their cacophony, Barney the Chihuahua crawls out from under the covers and wants his back scratched before going outside. Me, too. In fact, we’re all up except HIM. He manages to sleep through it all, but if you ask, he’ll tell you he didn’t sleep a wink. Even though a flock of crows is oddly enough called a murder, I’m not tempted to get out the shotgun. Our winter birds are beautiful but pretty quiet, and in the very early days of spring, the cawing of the crows is a welcome break from the cold silence, letting us know that the long dark winter is nearly over and spring is on the way. I must admit that I found it a little strange that a group of intelligent creatures communicating with each other could be called a murder. Some things in the English language make no sense, and yet others hit it right on the nose: A group of baboons is called a troop or a congress. I pick the latter, because it makes much more sense, at least to me. But then again, I brake for crows.