Our Dogs Think He’s Family Already

A lone crow pecks about the lawn,
exhibits a proprietary air, I know he
will fly away if I hail him. He shows

a rare tolerance for our closeness,
an almost insouciant cheekiness
compared with the rest of his breed.

I pondered why he is there, why
he risks exposure without inherent
fear. I checked the ground where

he pecks, found remnants of flour
and baked beans soured into the soil.
He has a treasure which feeds his

appetite, overcomes his fear. My
dilemma is whether I replenish his
store or invite him to share fellow-

hood where he can sit at the table.
It’s not such a heady thought really,
our dogs think he’s family already.
© 20 April 2007, I.D. Carswell