Caw caw caw

Crow upheaval.  No sign of owls or hawks, just spring in the corvid world.  O West Nile Virus, where is thy sting?

Wife reports a discussion yesterday at the nature center, six or seven crows and a raven.  Not crows mobbing the raven, although that happens.  Just, caw caw caw croak caw, as they circled around.  She postulates something squishy and delectable thawed out of a snowbank on the ground, perhaps with another raven in possession of the choice bits.

Winter, despite the calendar, has not relented.  We may see subzero (F) again tonight.

On natural cycles (sermon -- potentially offensive content)

Mentioning that part about juicy bits thawing out of snowbanks may have squicked some readers.  The nature center is a wildlife refuge for environmental education, but they don't make any attempt at neatness and Bambi pictures.  They have a couple of winter-killed deer lying about on the blood-stained snow right now, and the bones get rearranged by coyotes and ravens on a regular basis.

This brings us to the morning sermonette.  Some people seem to believe that if bloodthirsty old hunters don't shoot Bambi, the little tyke will live forever.  Sorry.  Ain't true.  Bambi will, within a rather short time (in human terms) either starve from lack of forage in a harsh winter or die a savage death at the teeth of something mean and nasty.  Coyotes aren't tidy hunters, with Federal laws in place about humane slaughter.  They'll usually hamstring their prey or drive it into deep snow and start feeding while it's still alive...

Bambi dies, folks.  Life isn't Disney.