Cawcus of Crow
BY DON DOUCETTE
It seems as a love-hate relationship for many people.
We happen to appreciate and enjoy the antics of crows. With them, it always seems as a group thing.
Crows are called many things around the world. We appreciate the term “cawcus.”
We are creatures of habit and they the same.
We often take our late afternoon tea to Caratunk in Seekonk as we both are unable to walk the trails and so, quietly sip our warm brew and observe from our auto the potpourri of wildlife who chance to pass our view.
There is definitely a resident cawcus of crows at Caratunk.
They gather in ritual toward the end of the day.
Like commuters, will predictably fly in from whatever busy crows do during the daylight hours.
We, many times, observe their roosting ritual with our own ritualistic bias as they glide into the tops of a line of tall white pine.
They usually settle into the high-rise structure of one tree, but be patient, as many times will rearrange themselves for some unknown reason and flit to the top of another pine as they position and conceal in a sea of green pine needles and to rest.
And In their nocturnal state, will endure whatever nature sends their way throughout the night as each hunkers down to sway in their pine branch wrap of nightly security.
We never see their interior pecking order at this point as we accept the fact just as is and as we ritually, as well, end each of our days.
Don Doucette
“Ten Mile River Rambles”