Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
A concert of crows
This post is about one of those little meaningless details that make life. This evening, as I was waiting for the train home, I heard a few crows cawing. The environment at and around the little train station and near the railway leading home is quite full of animal life: there are cats prowling around, pheasants, rabbits, seagulls, dogs barking in nearby yards, etc. Usually I spend my waiting time awing at the cats like a sucker, but this time it was the crows that got my attention. I heard them first cawing from afar, loudly, then they came flying, two or three of them, and perched on a tree near the platform. So for a brief moment I enjoyed their song. As a child, I didn't like crows and corvids, I thought their cry sounded nasty and unpleasant, I thought their black feathers were sinister. Now I love them and even their cawing has a sort of primal beauty. I blogged about corvids before and I know this post sounds very much like my old one. But this evening, listening to them, I rediscovered how much enjoyable is their cawing.