Every morning I’m getting woken up by bellowing crows. The kind of crows that sound like they’ve been out all night getting drunk and chain-smoking. They stand outside my window cawing at the top of their voices in a husky, grating manner. One in particular is real gruff. In my dreams I feel like I’m being attacked by a velocirapter.

They messed around with the ornamental geese too. Sounded like tiles falling off the roof when they knocked them down the stairs. Sounded like they may have been taking pictures of them in compromising positions. Poor geese. They’ve only know a life of delicate respectful handling and then to get taken advantage of like that.

Crows = Absolute hooligans. (But I love them. Just not at 4:30am)