Let Us CrowYes, these birds do eat carrion. But someone has to clean up the corpses. And better their foul beaks than my clean hands. They're crows. Say it and it's like saying nothing. Like grass. Like bugs. They're there and yet they're not there. And all around you the squashed raccoons, skittled squirrels, disappear like they never existed, as if there is no death. Crows keep the place looking like living. And they sit on high branches and caw. If not for crows, we'd have to sit on high branches and caw.  |
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