Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Crow story

I don't know whether to laugh or to rant. I had walked along Miracle Beach at a very low tide; a long walk, zigzagging up and down, dodging slippery patches of seaweeds and loose rocks, going "just a bit farther ...  to that next rock ... to that patch of clean sand ..." 

Tide still going out.

Nearly back at the trailhead (those first trees at the left in the photo above), I stopped to sit on a log, rest my complaining knee. I was watching a crow standing on top of an inverted root mass at the end of a log; he seemed to be acting as lookout. After a bit, he dropped down into a hollow in a log pile, joining another couple busy down there. I could see something red, maybe a jacket, something yellow, a plastic bag, a bottle. There were no people anywhere nearby.

Distant scene, with crow #2.

The crows were busy with that yellow bag, then pulled out another from between the logs. Then they showed up with their goodies:

Tostada! Without the hot sauce.

After a while — the crows had emptied the first bag, and were hauling away rounds from the second; to the top of the logs, to the ground beyond — I got up and walked past the cache on my way. There was the jacket, a Tupperware container, open, with some green sauce in it, two little plastic plates, and the hot sauce. And the two bags, empty now. I collected these and carried them up to the trash containers. Meddling, I know.

At the entrance to the trail, a crow was collecting leftovers:

Taco chips

Two in the beak, two more to collect.

DO NOT FEED THE BIRDS, the signs say.

No sé si reirme o si sermonear. La marea estaba muy baja y había caminado por largo rato, buscando camino, evitando areas con hierbas marinas resbalosas, areas con piedras sueltas, siguiendo el agua mientras se retiraba, siguiendo adelantes "un poco más ... hasta esa roca ... hasta esa zona de arena limpia ..."

Foto: la playa expuesta aquí a medias.

Al regresar, ya casi al principio del camino que da al estacionamiento (en la foto, donde empiezan los árboles a la izquierda), me senté sobre un tronco a descansar. Mientras, observaba un cuervo parado encima de unas raices invertidas; parecía estar actuando como vigilante. Después de un rato, bajó a reunirse con otros dos cuervos en un espacio entre pedazos de troncos secos. Desde mi asiento, podía ver algo rojo, tal vez una chaqueta, una bolsa de plástico amarilla, una botella. No se veía ninguna persona cerca.

Foto: el sitio, con cuervo #2.

Los cuervos se ocupaban con esa bolsa de plástico; luego sacaron otra de entre los troncos. Y luego aparecieron con el taquito.

Foto: cuervo con tostada.

Finalmente — los cuervos ya habían terminado con la primera bolsa, y estaban sacando las tostadas de la segunda y llevándoselas a los troncos, a la tierra más adelante — seguí mi camino. Al pasar el sitio, vi la chaqueta, un recipiente de plástico con algo de salsa verde, dos platitos de plástico, y la botella de salsa picante. Y las dos bolsas, ya vacías. Me las llevé para depositarlas en los recipientes destinados al propósito. Dejé lo demás para sus dueños ausentes.

Fotos: un cuervo juntando pedazos de tostada.


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