Birds of a feather

I’d just gotten back from Coimbatore that morning, so for a change I was up to watch the sun rise. I was sitting outside on the terrace, languid, in the cool and still morning air, with the sun pleasantly warm on my right cheek. It was then that I distinctly felt that I was not alone…and I was not. I looked to my right and he turned to his left, at about the same time I suppose - a rather adolescent-looking crow, sitting two feet from me on the clothesline.

Now, crows normally scoot the moment you look at them. They are supposed to be rather crafty and watchful all the time. Well, not this trusting soul. I looked at him and he looked at me and all of a sudden, there we were, sharing a moment. This was the closest I’d been to a crow, and what with sharp beaks and all, I was a mite uneasy…not him. It was like a scene out of a western, two gun fighters staring down each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

And move, he did - seems to me he had some sort of identity crisis, for at that moment, he did exactly what dogs normally do. A dog sits looking at you and then, as if to figure you out better, he tilts his head to one side. Well, that’s what my crow pal did too, tilted his head and continued to look at me. In the end, we decided we had better get to the duties of the day…I got up, so did he, and we parted rather amicably.