While I was reading the last few pages of The Tiger's Wife, I heard the raucous cries of what I assumed were a hundred crows amassed outside my window. Turns out it was closer to a few dozen.
I put out a bowl of seed, but they weren't having it. I couldn't see a raptor or intruder, and this obviously wasn't a crow funeral, so it must be a disagreement of some sort between the crows in the tree on the right and the left. It didn't feel like of portent of some kind.
Any corvid lovers that know crow idioms, please let us know what is going on here.
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