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One particular tree I pass by when taking my morning walk is home to a couple of crows. Though I can't see a nest in the tree, it must be somewhere nearby, because they are never far from it.

Each morning, as I pause to scan for black-feathered friends, I'm greeted by caws. Not loud, upset vocalizing; more like "Hello, here's your hat, what's your hurry, good-bye" message, while perched comfortably atop the telephone pole at the corner or on a tree branch.

But today was different. As I turned the corner, the crows burst into agitated squawks and caws, flapping from one branch to another, making the most awful din.

I paused, scanned the tree, wondering what on earth had upset them so. Surely not I, just making my morning amble past the spot. We're old acquaintances, they and I. Most days I stop and say hello before moving on.

But as I turned I saw the reason for their hysteria. There, behind me, flattened on the grass, was an enormous fluffy cat, clearly stopped in mid-stalk. I don't know how the cat could possibly have imagined that she would have any chance against two large, determined and aggressive crows, but it was obvious she was on the hunt. The crows were not amused.

As I passed, the cat's eyes and head followed me, while the body remained totally still. I made high-pitched "kitty, kitty" sounds, but she wasn't having anything to do with me. Finally, she slunk off, and as I walked away, I heard the crows settle down with a couple of final "caw, caw" remarks. I could almost imagine them saying, "Good riddance!"

My front door bird feeders had clusters of hungry finches and the hummingbird feeder was surrounded by aerobatic hummers, zooming in for the morning slurp. They move away when I approach, then come right back to feed.

All is well. It's a beautiful world.

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