Stepped outside my office today to have a smoke; I swear I heard one crow say to another, "Come on! Come on!"
Once when I was camping at Nickerson's with my kids, it was very early in the morning, I was still asleep in my tent, and I heard a voice shout, "Ma! Ma!"
"What? What?" I said, disgruntled. But when nobody answered, and I poked my head out of the tent, I saw only a crow, sitting on the picnic table.
Maybe it's because my path to and from work has changed, but so far this fall I haven't seen the endless waves of crows headed to their roost at twilight. After the crows' conversation this afternoon, I was remembering the invasion of Springfield College ten years ago by approximately 12,000 crows! At the time, it caused a great commotion, and the college was setting off noise cannons, placing artifical owls, etc., to drive them away.
Just for the hell of it, I called up Springfield College and asked the young man who answered the phone if there were still flocks of crows (to be correct, a murder of crows) hanging out at the college. There was a long pause (What kind of wierdo is this? I could hear him thinking) and then he said, "Actually, I don't think I've ever seen a crow on campus."
"OK, thanks a lot," I said, knowing it absolutely could not be true that every single crow had abandoned academia. But I guess they're not a problem anymore.
His response reminded me of my favorite story about Krishnamurti. Krishnamurti was being driven through the Indian countryside by two of his disciples. The disciples, sitting in the front seat, were having an hours-long and quite heated discussion about the nature of awareness. Finally one of the disciples turned around to Krishnamurti.
"What do you think awareness is, Master?"
"I think awareness is knowing when you've run over a goat," Krishamurti answered.