I mistakingly called the crow a raven in an earlier post, but I have since learned that he or she is a crow. This particular crow is so big that surely it must be a raven, but no, crows have just grown bigger in size and weight since my childhood years. I used to live by the Santa Ana River bottom in a city aptly called, Riverside, and there was a large garbage dump alongside of it. In my youth, my sisters and I boarded horses at this mostly dry riverbed, and the murder of crows would darken the sky as they flew past us in large numbers, always heading east in the morning and west at sunset. Those crows were not nearly as large as the ones living here in Morro Bay. I also remember huge flocks of seagulls scavenging at the dump. What a memory jog! They too would fill the sky with the sound of screeching and wings flapping as they fought over scraps of garbage and debris.
The neighbor across the street, who I had a chance to speak to about this matter, feeds the crow a slice of bread or sandwich meat a couple of times a day while the crow hangs out on the telephone wire and caws a friendly greeting to him. But the seagull who has joined the crow is an opportunistic feeder and the man must discourage the relationship now because he or she is a Shit Hawk, as my salty sailor of a brother calls them, and his neighbors have complained about all of the poop. So the seagull is no longer welcome here, but the crow still is, making it difficult for the seagull to give up hope of ever acquiring another free meal.
This morning while Callie sat on the dash of the RV, she was able to watch the man shoo the seagull away and throw the slice of bread high up in the air for the crow to catch. The crow snatched the bread midflight and then flew away, delighted with his breakfast. Yesterday afternoon, the seagull happened to nab a slice of meat before the crow was able to grab it, and then landed on the street, quite smugly, to eat the stolen food. But the very smart crow was not to be discouraged and dove down one more time and snatched it back, and rightfully so, from the unsuspecting Shit Hawk’s beak!
I think that the crow is smarter than the seagull, but the two have met their match and it is an ongoing saga, with the drama unfolding on a daily basis, that makes it worthy of a story worth telling. They both hang out across the street from where the RV is parked, with the crow on the wire and the seagull on the telephone post or pacing nervously on the ground down below. Sometimes they have friends that join them and they all compete for a chance to grab a free snack. Callie loves being entertained by it all and watches the scene unfold on the dash in real-time only, as she places a silent bet on who will be the next one to take the prize.