About this time last year, I was at home in West Point, Utah, waiting for Malicha (the llama) to have her baby. I'm really glad she didn't, because it can be a complicated ordeal and no one was home but me. I've heard stories of llamas having to be pulled out by wrapping bailing twine around a leg because of some complication. That's more of the exception, but it could have happened.
Sometime during that visit, I managed to make a couple crows mad enough at me to consider me and and other humanoid form a threat to their chicks ever so helpless in the top of one of our pine trees. The second you stepped outside the door..... CAH CAH CAH!!! Then swoop. And more CAH CAH CAH!!! Not only that, they would follow you (maybe it was a they, I don't know if the male and the female split pestering predators duty or not) until you were out of sight. Rocks, squirt guns, and convincingly unfriendly language would not deter them. This happened for the REST OF THE SUMMER.
The thing is, there's another set of crows guarding their chicks this year. And they aren't dive bombing as of yet. So I am becoming more convinced that I might have indeed have been the catalyst for the entire reign of terror last year. I find it not entirely coincidential that I had picked up immitating crow calls from a roommate, and would no doubt have been easily stimulated by the sight of a crow to practice said crowing skills. I must have, by mistake, said "your chicks are so ugly and dumb, the best thing to do would be to feed them to me." Which are, more or less, mortal fighting words for any species. I am surprised that I didn't have a whole nation of crows recreating a scene from The Birds for all of my other crowing.
Thank goodness for grad school. All that readin and writin has done me good. I won't go crowing at crows again this year.
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