Peanuts In My Pocket

A story from my day.

My dog Rufio is getting old. He has serious health problems, and I’m not sure how much time I have left with him. One way to tell how he’s doing is whether he asks for a walk. Most days, he just wants a place to sleep and lots of attention from anyone who visits. But this morning, he asked for a walk. We took a very slow, short stroll around the block, with our local murder of crows as our escort.

The crows followed us as we walked. I dropped peanuts along the way, and they grabbed them as if they were starving. I usually drop two unsalted peanuts in shells per crow, and I did so this morning for a young crow that sometimes takes peanuts from my hand. He picked up one peanut, but before he could grab another, another crow swooped in and stole it. There was some squawking and fluttering of wings as they flew off.

They landed on the sidewalk about 15 feet ahead of me, each with a peanut in their beaks. They were trying to block my path, hoping I’d drop more peanuts—which, of course, I did. Both picked up a peanut and flew away. A few moments later, two more crows arrived, each begging for more peanuts. Rufio barked at the second pair as if to say, “I’m walking here.”

I’m still waiting for the murder to leave me a gift. I feed them every day, whether we walk or not.