A Feast for Crows

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We have crows in the pine trees shading our garden – very noisy crows. They’re so noisy they make me jump every time I went outside to water the flowers. But they made me jump even more when one flew too close over my head and… at my feet I saw this:

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By nightfall my new friends had hidden under ferns. I worried the local cats might find them, or maybe raccoons or coyotes. But the next day they were still there, like Peter and Paul, preaching silently while their parents crowed loudly overhead:

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Another day passed and the bird-lets still survived, still flightless, voiceless, and fluffed. The brave one stared over the edge of the wall and stepped off, wings flapping, almost aloft till it tumbled softly to earth. Then it meandered across the grass, stumbled over another flower bed, and began to find its way back. Meanwhile marauding squirrels passed too close and were dive-bombed by mom.

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The wanderer tried to climb the tree, back to its nest I suppose. Wings flapping almost usefully it must have risen at least a couple of feet before it fell down.

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Then it came back to its friend, back to the steps, back to the fence. It jumped and missed and tried again, and tried and tried again until it made the first bar, second bar, top of the rail, then across to the highest fence-post; poor little brave bird. Then it sat and waited while poor patient mom tried to find a place to feed it from.

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And then they were gone. I hope they flew. I’m really no fan of those noisy crows, but I did not want my garden’s fluffy visitors to be anyone’s feasts. I hope they flew safely to their nest and beyond.

So today’s writing prompt is this:

  • Think of a book title
  • Change one word
  • Then use it to inspire an essay or short short story
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