The Murder of Crows

 

      I was watching some pigeons the other day and I remembered watching crows when I was a kid.  There was always a murder of crows around my house when I was growing up.  They were always on the ground walking and cawing.  I loved watching them walk.  They had a sort of side to side strut that seemed way more dignified than a duck's waddle.  And when they moved quickly they would go step, step, hop, step, step, hop, hop, hop, hop.  I used to feed them bread that my Mom would give me.  Then I realized that I don't remember seeing or hearing a crow since I moved here three years ago.

 

      Nobody knows for sure but it seems that some things come together that allow disease to decimate the crows.  Their behavior leads to their downfall.  First, crows don't really migrate, they stay in a relatively small area, as birds go.  Second, they stay together in groups.  Third, they don't scare easily so they don't move around a lot.  Fourth, they are big birds and are easy targets for mosquitoes.  Enter the West Nile Virus; the plague for crows.  Lastly, for some reason, crows die from this disease in higher percentages than other birds.

 

                Once upon a midnight dreary,

                While I pondered weak and weary,

                How a world without the ravens,

                Would be such an awful bore.

 

                Hopefully I wished for some cure,

                Some way to save them that was so pure,

                They could live their lives out for sure,

                Sure to caw and play and soar.

 

                My soul will suffer when they can't caw and play and soar,

                For they will live - nevermore!

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