Midnight Mutterings | Of cats and crows

||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS BY JACKIE BATES |||

I like Cats and Crows in equal measure. However, it has come to my attention that Cats and Crows dislike each other in equal measure. Of course, I can’t know who started the Crow-Cat War, but I blame the Crows. (And if you are wondering why I am capitalizing words that are not considered proper nouns, it is out of respect. Both Cats and Crows seem to think very highly of themselves, and I’m going along with them on that.)

In any case, the main reasons I blame the Crows are twofold:

First, the Crows are smarter than Cats. In fact, I think Crows are smarter than almost all of us. ‘Us’ being non-Crows. Imagine how poorly we would fare if we (and I am speaking of humans here) had no homes, no written language, no food pantries, no social security, no opposable thumbs, no political parties, no fire, etc., and yet had great affection for anything shiny, particularly anything shiny that makes a satisfying, clinking noise when dropped into a metal gutter. And I’m not forgetting the desire and ability to make fun of anyone who is not a Crow. I just don’t think we would thrive, even though Crows and humans seem to have an equal desire and ability to hold a grudge.

Second, Crows can fly. Sure lots of non-humans can fly, but not so many can fly and make fun of non-Crows at the same time. Not to mention, when flying in a group, Crows can take out an Eagle. A group of Crows is not called a ‘Murder’ for nothing.

But back to the Crow-Cat War: I’m going to be specific here. I am thinking of the Crows in my neighborhood and how they have been holding a grudge against me for almost twenty years because of a Cat. Sybil-the-Cat has been dead for two years now, but the Crows have not forgotten her. And they have not forgotten my close association with her and they are not even close to forgiving me for that.

In our younger years, Sybil-the-Cat and I used to go for walks around the neighborhood, bothering no one as far as I could tell, but our very existence used to enrage the Crows. They would scream at us, dive bomb us, call us terrible names,
and a couple of times dropped fir cones on us. Frankly, it hurt my feelings, because as I said earlier, I have always liked and admired Crows. In addition to that humiliation, the Crows quite like other humans in the neighborhood and would stop to chat amiably and perhaps share a muffin without insulting the baker.

(Is ‘amiably’ a word? Probably should be ‘amicably,’ but a Crow would not change a word just because of convention, and I won’t either.)

In any case, I have assumed for years that the Crows treated Sybil-the-Cat and me poorly because of something Sybil-the-Cat had done that I did not observe or just because of her Cat-ness, or maybe because of her lack of Crow-ness. However, after Sybil-the-Cat died, the Crows did not suddenly change their opinion of me. When I tried to feed them, they would fly to the ground, landing near the food, guarding it almost, as they stood, backs turned to me until I disappeared into the house. Only then would they eat while I watched from the window. Lately, the Crows have been willing to eat what I provide even while I watch, but only after a respectable amount of time during which the Crows throw a few insults my way, just to keep their boundaries intact. Crows have excellent boundaries. Mental health workers are probably impressed.

Today a neighbor I met on the road mentioned these little columns I have been submitting fortnightly (since Lin asked me to) why I jumped around from subject to subject, never following through in a subsequent column. While I don’t have an answer as I am passionately interested in politics, particularly in voter rights (and her evil twin: voter suppression) as well as some other things like gardens and books and this pandemic, I plan to return to Crows and Cats in the near future.

Stay tuned.