At our house we have decided that hummingbirds are out of style and way too much work, so we are going to begin taming crows. Great big chicken-size crows that are so black they look purple.
I’ll probably still put out some sugar water for the hummers, but the “in thing” in 2026 is crows. Or, that is my understanding anyway.
Saturday I took a little leaf-shaped plate and put on it some unsalted peanuts in the shell, a shiny stone, and some other trinkets out of the junk drawer — believe you me, there are plenty of trinkets in the junk drawer(s) — and placed it on a table in the backyard. By the time I walked back to the door, I heard one of those chicken hawks cawing and sure enough one swooped down and grabbed a peanut.
Wife, Danny, says the crows will befriend humans, but we have to make sure they can see our face so they will remember us. I’m trying, but it has not been back, to my knowledge, so this is a work in progress. Perhaps it will return in time for Easter and take a good look at me.
As previously mentioned, these crows are of the monster variety and one better not leave the top off the garbage can because they like to get into the garbage. And scatter it everywhere. They are much worse than a stray dog or a resident raccoon when it comes to garbage scattering. But, I digress.
They are pretty, again so black that they have a purple sheen. They are sleek and fast, and loud. You can hear ‘em coming and hear ‘em going and I’m pretty sure the one Saturday that swiped that peanut was saying thank you. I’m not very versed in crow just yet, but neither is anyone else at our house, so whatever I say it says is so. For now anyway.
Danny also says crows are very smart. We shall see.
The thing about this trinket tray, supposedly, is that the crows, once they get to know you (recognize your face, I guess) they will start bringing you stuff and leaving it on your tray. I read one lady’s account of her crow bringing her a fish skin. I’m not interested in a fish skin. My mind is set on something a bit more valuable, if only to me.
I do still have a lot to learn about this crow business but I’m going to give it my all or at least the whole bag of peanuts I bought for this experiment...barring anything unforeseen, like the squirrels, of course that have already set their sights on the trinket tray as well.
I’m also not sure, yet, if the crows are stealing stuff off other people’s trinket trays and passing it along or if they have a stash of trinkets somewhere, like from The Dollar Tree. We’ll have to wait until they get to know my face good enough to bring me something to find out the answer to that. I would certainly hate to be caught red-handed with someone else’s trinkets.
Again, I hope it is not fish skin, or false teeth, dirty underwear, or anything else along those lines. But beggars should not be choosers...at least in this first round.
So wish us luck, we’ll let you know if we get a purple crow for Easter. Obviously, though, they are not Easter chicks like we used to get each year as children. This is a whole different thing.
But while broaching that subject, remember those brightly colored chicks? It was the baby chickens that were a regular part of the Easter holiday in the ‘60s not purple crows. They were dyed and then they died. I guess that is why the little pink, and blue, and yellow critters are not sold anymore.
I’m sure it is the cruelty to animals folks that stopped ‘em from dyeing baby chicks different colors, but honestly, it seems to me it was cruelty to kids as well. If the chick lived long enough to still be there when we woke up on Easter morn it usually headed on to the great beyond by noon or shortly thereafter.
Then there were little boys and girls squalling all during Sunday School and church because their new chicks had died.
The few baby birds that lived past the Easter egg hunt then took the chance of getting squashed by a falling child trying to catch it and get it back in its box.
Ours always lived in a big toilet paper box. We lived at the A&P when we were not at home and Momma and Daddy lived at the A&P most of the time when me and my brothers were at home so we had plenty of toilet paper boxes. Can’t complain about the A&P, though: if they had not been working there we might not have had a box of colored chickens nor the brown crunchy kind that was piled high on a warm platter after church on Easter Sunday.
Fried chicken is back on our menu for Sunday dinner this Easter Sunday, and if the weather is nice we will probably eat outside. I sure hope that won’t offend my new feather friends.
Oh well, Happy Easter, and I’ll let you all know if there is anything to crow about if my crow comes trinket trading any time soon.
