Okay, I don't usually write posts right on top of the other, but this is a story that has to be told. I just wrote and published the payday post, and I was recovered enough (and hungry enough) to gather my shit and go get some groceries because my fridge was on empty. I had my list, my bag with wheels (I have no car - remember), I had my hooded jacket because the weather had that kinda wetish look, the look where it's not raining yet, but it might at any minute, and I was out the door.
I shop where I work, and I work about a five minute's walk from my apartment. Not a horrible ordeal to walk, and with my little wheeled bag, I can actually do a pretty big shop. So I was wheeling my bag along, and I've long past stopped caring about whether I look like a dork with that bag or not, thinking about what I needed to get, when I heard this really loud cawing.
We have an ass-ton of crows in Washington, and if you've never been around crows, I can tell you they are really smart birds. Freakishly smart. One of the areas that they like to hang out at is the apartment trash bins - you know, those big green industrial sized eyesores. I was out there one day, taking out trash, and these birds were trying to get into this trash bag that was tied shut. It was a reused grocery store bag, so it wasn't big, but the birds couldn't get to whatever it was that they wanted in that bag, so I watch as one of the birds grabbed it with a leg or talon or whatever you call it, flew up into the air with the bag, and let the bag go. The bag fell to the ground and literally exploded - giving the bird access to whatever the thing was that the bird had wanted. Then they all started doing that shit. After those birds were done with that trash bin, the bin looked like a pack of savage dogs had managed to get into the trash. It was like, "Holy shit."
So I haven't researched these birds, but I do know that they have some kind of problem solving skill, and I know that they learn from each other. One of them learns a cool trick, in a few seconds, all the nearby birds know it as well. And while I have not researched these birds, my sister tells me that they can recognize a face and that they hold a grudge. I don't know what studies you would do on a bird to see whether or not they hold a grudge, but my sister has a book about them, because they fascinate her. Personally, I think it's because they are evil, and I think my sister leans a little towards the chaotic evil alignment, but that's just me. I'm sure I'm biased or something.
So to get back to the story, I am walking along, thinking about food, and I hear this cawing. But this cawing is alarming because it's really close to my head, and I feel air movement from above me, and I realize that the crow is swooping above my head so I kinda flinch and duck and the bird lands in a tree. I figure - accident. But this crow - it's still cawing up a storm. Really loudly, like it's cussing me out or something, and then the damn thing swoops down at me again. The only reason the damn thing doesn't hit me right in the face is because I'm ducking for all I'm worth. I get down so damn low to the ground that I'm practically crawling, and I'm thinking, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
At this point, I abandon all dignity and run to the crosswalk, and the crow lands in a tree and it is cawing after me like the arrogant-son-of-a-biatch that it is. But it doesn't follow past the crosswalk, so I just shake it off and do my shopping. I'm in the store for about an hour, and I figure, the thing is gone. Whatever game that bird was playing is over now, and I'm safe to walk home.
The crow is not gone. The damn thing is sitting there, in the tree, waiting for me. It sees me, and starts swooping at my damn head again. I'm ducking and swinging my grocery bag at the thing, looking for all the world like a lunatic. I'm wondering why the hell this dumb shit always happens to me and I'm hoping that crow doesn't actually land a blow, because how in the hell do you tell people that you are all beat up because a bird attacked you?
This crow has marked out some territory or something, because the whole time, I've walked forward as fast as I can, and after I reached a certain point, the crow gave up and left me alone. I think the damn bird was attacking people to see if they would drop something good, though. I noticed, in all my unusual proximity to the ground, a lot of excess litter. I think the damn bird is doing a trashcan bag trick, but on people.
That, or that bird was peeking in someone's window while they played some classic Resident Evil. You know, the first ones, where you are attacked by flocks of infected crows. Maybe that crow is a zombie wannabe. Maybe it wishes that it had the T-virus. Apparently, I managed to stumble across the crow that aspires to be a T-virus mutant. Great, just freaking great. Where's Jill Valentine when you need her?
I shop where I work, and I work about a five minute's walk from my apartment. Not a horrible ordeal to walk, and with my little wheeled bag, I can actually do a pretty big shop. So I was wheeling my bag along, and I've long past stopped caring about whether I look like a dork with that bag or not, thinking about what I needed to get, when I heard this really loud cawing.
We have an ass-ton of crows in Washington, and if you've never been around crows, I can tell you they are really smart birds. Freakishly smart. One of the areas that they like to hang out at is the apartment trash bins - you know, those big green industrial sized eyesores. I was out there one day, taking out trash, and these birds were trying to get into this trash bag that was tied shut. It was a reused grocery store bag, so it wasn't big, but the birds couldn't get to whatever it was that they wanted in that bag, so I watch as one of the birds grabbed it with a leg or talon or whatever you call it, flew up into the air with the bag, and let the bag go. The bag fell to the ground and literally exploded - giving the bird access to whatever the thing was that the bird had wanted. Then they all started doing that shit. After those birds were done with that trash bin, the bin looked like a pack of savage dogs had managed to get into the trash. It was like, "Holy shit."
So I haven't researched these birds, but I do know that they have some kind of problem solving skill, and I know that they learn from each other. One of them learns a cool trick, in a few seconds, all the nearby birds know it as well. And while I have not researched these birds, my sister tells me that they can recognize a face and that they hold a grudge. I don't know what studies you would do on a bird to see whether or not they hold a grudge, but my sister has a book about them, because they fascinate her. Personally, I think it's because they are evil, and I think my sister leans a little towards the chaotic evil alignment, but that's just me. I'm sure I'm biased or something.
So to get back to the story, I am walking along, thinking about food, and I hear this cawing. But this cawing is alarming because it's really close to my head, and I feel air movement from above me, and I realize that the crow is swooping above my head so I kinda flinch and duck and the bird lands in a tree. I figure - accident. But this crow - it's still cawing up a storm. Really loudly, like it's cussing me out or something, and then the damn thing swoops down at me again. The only reason the damn thing doesn't hit me right in the face is because I'm ducking for all I'm worth. I get down so damn low to the ground that I'm practically crawling, and I'm thinking, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
At this point, I abandon all dignity and run to the crosswalk, and the crow lands in a tree and it is cawing after me like the arrogant-son-of-a-biatch that it is. But it doesn't follow past the crosswalk, so I just shake it off and do my shopping. I'm in the store for about an hour, and I figure, the thing is gone. Whatever game that bird was playing is over now, and I'm safe to walk home.
The crow is not gone. The damn thing is sitting there, in the tree, waiting for me. It sees me, and starts swooping at my damn head again. I'm ducking and swinging my grocery bag at the thing, looking for all the world like a lunatic. I'm wondering why the hell this dumb shit always happens to me and I'm hoping that crow doesn't actually land a blow, because how in the hell do you tell people that you are all beat up because a bird attacked you?
This crow has marked out some territory or something, because the whole time, I've walked forward as fast as I can, and after I reached a certain point, the crow gave up and left me alone. I think the damn bird was attacking people to see if they would drop something good, though. I noticed, in all my unusual proximity to the ground, a lot of excess litter. I think the damn bird is doing a trashcan bag trick, but on people.
That, or that bird was peeking in someone's window while they played some classic Resident Evil. You know, the first ones, where you are attacked by flocks of infected crows. Maybe that crow is a zombie wannabe. Maybe it wishes that it had the T-virus. Apparently, I managed to stumble across the crow that aspires to be a T-virus mutant. Great, just freaking great. Where's Jill Valentine when you need her?
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