blog post

Murder She Wrote was one of the TV shows I enjoyed, and I still watch re-runs of Midsomer Murders.

The other day I saw several crows involved in a murder. The murder was of crows, not by crows. The murder alerted me to a body under the flowering quince outside my window. I felt no need to call on the investigative skills of Jessica Fletcher, Tom Barnaby, or his cousin John Barnaby to solve the murder. Limited research tells me two crows are not a murder. But there were three on the lawn, two of which were near the murdered.

I did have questions. Was the victim killed where the crows found it and alerted me or did the killing take place elsewhere and the body dragged to under the bush? Was the victim injured and made its way to where it died? Was the deadly assault targeted or random?

I checked my Ring doorbell history and there was no record of motion. But the quince bush could have blocked detection of the killing or dragging of the victim. I don’t know of human witnesses, so the culprit is still at large.

Crows seem to have a mind of their own. By most definitions, the mind is the conscious product of firing neurons. At least one study found that crows know what they know and can ponder the content of their own minds, a manifestation of higher intelligence and analytical thought long believed the sole province of humans and a few other higher mammals.
My observations are not scientific, but

  • Crows seem to be like cats – no one can tell them what to do.
  • Crows seem to be like dogs – they claim territory and loudly let other beings know when that territory is being approached.
  • Crows seem to be like sharks – they’ll eat anything.
  • Crows seem to be like fraternity brothers or sorority sisters – they stick together.
  • Crows seem to have military like organization of duties – one appears to stand apart as if on sentry duty while the other two eat – rotation of duty seems almost as if scheduled.
  • Crows seem to be quite assertive, even to the level of aggressive bullying.
  • Crows don’t usually kill a squirrel or other small animal except in defense of on their own kind.

I envisioned a scenario: a murder chased the victim into the street as a vehicle approached. The rabbit was injured, then dragged itself to the murder’s feeding station.

As my octogenarianism continues, my mind wanders as I wonder.
Or could it be that my mind wonders as I wander?
It is a fact that I have opinions – or is it?