Judging by the number of exasperated hoarse “caws” I’ve been lately hearing, often preceded by a panic-stricken squawk there’s turmoil in the treetops. Many respected crow families have had their family honour besmirched. Imagine what life in one such crow home would have been like during the last few months. (Some literary licence has been taken in the following account).
Shri and shrimati ji crow were delighted when the missus laid four greenish-grey eggs, splotched in rust brown in their sturdy edifice up in a mango tree. She only remembered laying two, but found two more eggs in the nest. She was not about to nitpick about numbers, though. “I’m going to be a mama!” she cawed proudly. “And I’m going to be a dada!” her husband said.
“I wonder what their first words will be!” Shrimati crow said, naturally hoping it would be “mama”. Anyway, shrimati crow diligently sat on her eggs and was thoroughly delighted when two of them hatched first, followed a few days later by the other two. “We have a family,” she said, delighted. Both parents immediately got busy with the shopping — bringing home large quantities of caterpillars, insects, berries. Shri crow assiduously drove away all those who he thought were evincing too much interest in his new family, especially that pair of oddities — a slinky black fellow and his bark brown stippled partner, who had, some weeks earlier, driven them nuts with their yodeling calls.
“You know, our eldest two will really do well when they fledge and fly,” shrimati crow told her husband. “Have you seen the way they bully the younger two? Hardly let them get a mouthful!”
“Way to go! Way to go! Obviously, they’re from my side of the family!” her husband smirked.
The elder two continued to bully and bash up the younger tw