Out early Sunday morning, peanuts in pocket. Beauteous, various robin songs everywhere, with occasional demented White-throated Sparrow songs punctuating the pleasant atmosphere. I’m enjoying the freedom of these chains.
A crow flew over and landed in a tall tree—maybe it recognized me?—and got a few of the four or five peanuts (with shells, unsalted) I tossed beneath it. It swooped down and gobbled them up after trying to gather them all up in its beak.
As I walked around the block to soak in the scene, and put a letter in the mailbox, I gave a few peanuts to a couple of gray squirrels too. One was quite tiny.
I returned to the spot where I fed the crow, and another (or the same?) crow flew back in, so I tossed a few more beneath a tree.
My thought while dressed so weirdly in cords, long black coat, black stocking cap with pom pon, and facemask: will this bird recognize me if I can ever shed my COVID gear?
Coda in answer: Yes. I’ve fed a few crows in this spot, and others since, wearing a less dark and elaborate getup, now that it’s warmed up further.
squirrel of the week 