Tiny Memoir
Hitchcock Movie’s Worth of Crows
And all I had to defend myself was an old saw.
I grew up in New York City, but for the last 4 years, I've lived in the woods in New England. Insert a joke here about how different it is to live here. The truth probably isn’t that far off from the joke.
Last month, as I drove down my two-lane road to the grocery store, I noticed a murder of crows. This was not a few crows. What I saw as a full-on Hitchcock movie’s worth of crows. I didn’t investigate it further then, but I slowed down on the way back and, after the crows scattered, I saw a dead one-year-old deer on the side of the road.
This is not noteworthy, but I happened to mention it to a friend, and she instantly asked if I would get her the antlers. I grabbed a saw and set off down the road. As I approached the deer, the crows scattered, but they were not happy. They perched in the trees, cawing and swooping at me.
I stood on the side of the road, holding up a dead deer’s head and sawing off the antlers. A few cars passed by, the drivers waved as they passed. I waved back with the saw. Nothing unusual here, just a woman sawing antlers, hoping not to be attacked by crows.
I used to have a silver Pomeranian. He loved to hang out on the deck outside the sun room. He was a small dog. In…
