I was very excited for the Saturday of the Labour Day weekend. It was the last long weekend of the summer and I had some plans. I was getting up a little early to get ready for today’s event, but not too early. After all, it was a Saturday and I usually slept in a bit.

But the crows were cawing a lot this morning. A seemingly never-ending volley of very loud caws and calls broke the early morning quiet. The tone was different – anxious, urgent maybe – something more than the usual. I figured there was an interloper and they were letting them know whose territory it was and soon enough it would be over. I tried to nap a little more but their caws and calls would not stop. I got up before the alarm and figured I might as well see what’s on the go with my darkly-feathered friends.

I went to the kitchen and hit the coffee-making button and took a look out the window. I could hear them, but I couldn’t see them. They weren’t in my trees. I bobbed my head up and down in the window, as sometimes they can see me from their vantage point while I can’t see them for the leaves and the narrow view.

I stood for a moment, just listening to the coffee machine quietly bubbling and gurgling while the crows continued their calls. Again, I could hear different sounds from them – there were coos and rattles among the persistent, urgent-sounding caws that dominated the cacophony.

I made my way to the living room window for a better look-see. I still didn’t see the crows that were calling out. But I did see what they were calling out about. There was a crow on the sidewalk across the street, obviously dead. (Dead bird picture warning)

I was stunned and shocked. We’ve been here for close to fifteen years now. This was the first dead crow I had seen in all those years. I wondered if this was one of ‘our’ murder or an interloper as I first thought. Our group owned this territory. They shared it with the seagulls, starlings, blue jays and other assorted birds that they seem to tolerate, or even enjoy – but still, it was theirs.

I quickly threw on some sweats over my pajamas and went across the street to look. I didn’t want to, really, but I felt I had to. I didn’t want to get too close and I didn’t want to upset the other crows any more than they were already. They were quiet as I approached, but as I got nearer they started the unusual cawing again. I didn’t know if they were calling out in victory or in sympathy. I didn’t know if this was a loss or a win. I didn’t know if this dead bird was a friend or a foe. I got closer to the site, between the crows on the wire and the one on the ground. I stopped where I was and just stood and looked. I could see what I needed to see.

There was no blood, nor any on the road near where the crow was. I didn’t know if it was hit by a car or if some other fate had befallen it. If it was hit by a car, did the driver move it to the sidewalk or did it make it on its own before its injuries took their full toll? I didn’t know and probably never would. I took a couple of pictures and stayed for a minute, looking at the dead crow and listening to the caws and calls echoing around in the otherwise quiet early morning.

I went back to my house. As I was walking, two of the crows flew away and two stayed in their perch near the body of the fallen one. I got a coffee and drank it while looking out the window and wondering what had happened to the crow.

As sad and disturbing as this event was, I eventually had to put it aside and get ready for the other mystery I was involved in today.

My sister-in-law was picking me up and I was going to show her the crow, if she didn’t see it herself on the way. Given the day’s scheduled event, I was wearing a favourite shirt that was well themed for the game. And, unfortunately, probably for the scene I had found this morning.

We were playing the ‘CluedUpp’ mystery game in downtown St. John’s today and we had been anticipating the event. Everybody was encouraged to dress up their team. Our team was me, my sister, and my sister-in-law. We named ourselves the InVestiGators – Jawsome Crime Biters! We had vests that my sister sourced and alligator hats and badges that she and her daughter made for us. My sister-in-law, besides being our driver, was in charge of logistics and timing. I was in charge of research, as usual, and I spent a lot of time reading about the original crime that the game was based on – that of Jack the Ripper – to get us prepared.

Between my readying rituals and coffee refills, I would look out and assess the situation on the street. Were the other crows still around? Should I get a bag and gloves and dispose of the body? Should I call the city and make sure it gets picked up? At one refill, I watched a man walk by the crow giving it a wide berth. He kept looking back over his shoulder at it and then up at the wires and trees. Finally, he stopped and went back. He got his phone out and took a picture before going on his way again.

By the time I was good to go and all the coffee was gone, I still kept going back to the window. It was getting closer to my pick-up time so I wanted to be watching for my ride as well. On one trip to the window, I saw someone over by the crow. Their car was parked with the door open. And they had taken the crow from the sidewalk to the grass. I didn’t know what was happening – the car had no markings. I slipped on some shoes and went across the street to see (or ask) what they were doing.

I introduced myself as a neighbourhood resident and friend to the local crows (as strange as that sounds). I asked if I could ask what they were doing. They told me they were taking the crow away. They were going to use the feathers and bury the rest. They told me they had done this before when they saw dead birds. We talked about what might have gotten it killed. They thought it was a car. I wasn’t so sure. I mentioned the lack of blood or anything and how the crow was on the sidewalk and not in the street. Our conversation awkwardly petered out and I thanked them for taking the crow’s remains and burying it. I went back to my place to gather my things and wait for my ride.

Of course, the minute I got in the car with my sister-in-law I started telling her about what happened that morning. I waited until we got to my sister’s house before I showed them the pictures and told the story again. We chatted about it briefly and then we were face and eyes into getting ready for the game!

It was a great time and an awesome event. There were hundreds of people playing all over downtown St. John’s. And most were dressed up in colourful outfits and themed groups of crime fighters. (There were many groups channeling Sherlock Holmes or the Scooby Doo Mystery Fighters – the whole thing had a great vibe and I 10/10 would recommend. We are already signed up for next year!)

We solved the crime and our team came in at 18 out of 100. We thought this was not bad at all considering we paused the game for a relaxing lunch with great margaritas (until the wasp incident – don’t ask). The InVestiGators don’t like to work on an empty stomach.

It was a full day with plenty of walking up and down the famously-steep streets of St. John’s. I was pretty tired once I got back home. I told my partner all about the game and then went to send some pictures to my teammates. I saw the pictures of the dead crow and thought about the coincidence of starting a day of murder mystery with a mystery of the death in my murder. Again, I wondered if it really was one of ‘ours’ and what had killed this crow.

But then the evening and the weekend marched on and I was caught up in the next thing. The dead crow was not forgotten. It was put away in my memory as an experience, albeit sad, in my continuing relationship with these neighbourhood crows.

It was a couple of weeks later when I was trying to sort some of my pictures from the summer that I came across this one. The details tell me it was taken a day or so before finding the dead crow.

At first I thought what I was seeing was a glitch with the camera. I’d had a couple of those before. But the more I looked at this one and the pictures around it, the more I could see that this crow was probably very injured. Here’s a closer look at its neck and wing area and the possible injury.

That negative space is so strange, so semi-circular, so…wrong. The dark void around the wing on that side looks like an extension of the injury. It had a light coloured feather stuck in its claw, maybe there was a fight? Or maybe it was something else that tore into its body. Or maybe it slammed into something. I don’t have enough information or experience to know one way or the other. But I do know that this looks catastrophic – it doesn’t look like an injury that this crow can recover from.

Finding this picture on my camera roll settled one thing for me. It let me know that this was, more than likely, one of ‘our’ murder. I have hundreds of pictures of our crows on this very branch outside my office window. It’s one of the places they go to call at me when I’m not at the front of the house and they are feeling ignored, or hungry, or bored, or playful, or whatever it is that crows feel. That was at least one part of the mystery that was solved to my satisfaction. The only remaining part of the mystery was how, exactly, did this crow die.

But I knew I wasn’t going to figure that out. That’s a part of nature that I need to leave alone. I am just an observer who feels fortunate to experience her beauty and brutality on occasion. But I am not privy to her mysteries.

©CRodgers