January 2: Flash Mob
Kristen Lindquist
While on the phone at my office this afternoon, I took a sudden, momentary break in my conversation so I could yell to my co-workers to come quick and look out the window. The trees outside our office were suddenly filled with crows! At least a hundred of them, just hanging out in the branches, cawing, shifting from branch to branch, tree to tree, as more flew in from all directions, some of them standing around together in the road. They weren't mobbing anything, didn't appear to have any purpose; they were just there.
And then they were gone.
About ten minutes later I looked out as they flew back over the office, all those black silhouettes against a blue sky, the whole swirling flock flapping away over Mount Battie and beyond, undoubtedly en route to an evening roost. I ran outside to try to catch a photo but was too late.
Visited by crows.
After, the rest of the day
felt somehow different.
And then they were gone.
About ten minutes later I looked out as they flew back over the office, all those black silhouettes against a blue sky, the whole swirling flock flapping away over Mount Battie and beyond, undoubtedly en route to an evening roost. I ran outside to try to catch a photo but was too late.
Visited by crows.
After, the rest of the day
felt somehow different.