By late summer a few of us had been lost. Poison has a distinct smell but takes a while to recognize, especially disguised as something edible. There could be no doubt as to who was responsible. A meeting was held to collectively consider the options. A few wanted to leave. There were plenty of places to go where we could be left alone. Others sought a more dramatic solution. As was customary we voted and developed a plan. The well he frequented every few days was an easy place to return his favors. We dropped in what we could as the opportunities arose and if the sun was right our efforts were rewarded with a small sparkle that would flash back at us as we hurried away. We watched and waited.
Mornings and evenings passed. Then one hot afternoon we saw him stagger out of the place he slept. At first he paid no attention to us. As we slowly gathered, sitting on the fences and walls that surrounded the property, he began screaming and cursing as if, by incantation alone, he could make us all vanish. This time no one moved. He moaned and fell to the ground, rolled on his back and shuddered. A swirl of black dots filled his vision.
The logic of crows can be ruthless. We gathered, chose our spots carefully and swept in.
Linocut by Richard Trauger