The Crow War

The Crow War--

by Rendo '07

Once again I plant my garden,

Just like I do every spring.

For some reason, this year, I am unable to get coated seed. Coated seed is corn seed that has been coated with a substance that animals hate to eat, thus, allowing the corn to germinate and grow.

As if I were a beginner gardener, rather than one just reaching the golden years, I plant my corn. Every day, I walk to the garden to check its progress. In about a week, I see the corn sprout appear above the soil. I check it every other day and finally see it one inch above the ground.

Meanwhile, every day, the crows sit on the tall pines nearby, arguing between the members of the flock, as to the ripeness of the seed, in the garden below them.

When I return to the house, the alpha crow is flys quietly to the ground outside my garden fence. He looks about, studying the corn seeds progress.

It's ready! Readee, Readee, he screams. Upon his word, the pack of renagades descends for supper.

The next day, I check my seed to find green tops lying dead on the ground and the seed gone.

There were no footprints in the soil.

"It has to be the crows.", I think to myself.

New seed is planted. However, this time I decide to read about preventing birds from eating garden corn seed, hoping to gain enough knowledge to outsmart them!

I find a book on gardening in my extensive library that fits the description of my plight.

"Try this", the author says.

"Make two rows eight inches apart. Two feet to the right, make another two rows eight inches apart. Make a trough in the sand and plant your seed. Strip newspaper into three-inch wide strips and cover the seed. Then cover the seed and paper with earth. When the crows seek out the seed, they will hit the newspaper and quit looking."

"Great Idea!, I exclaim.

I replant additional corn, using the newspaper technique.

I watch for my corn to grow and it somehow grows up through the newspaper until it reaches about one inch. I hear the crows. I run out to the garden and find that they have systematically walked the length of each row and plucked the corn for supper.

Needless to say, I am not a happy gardener. I have the wisdom of age on my side and decide to use the "old method". I take some roofing tar (now made with some kind of plasticmaterial and add a bit of kerosene to the substance; to this, I add the corn seed and let it soak a bit. My companion said that he had heard that hot sauce will work, so we add a quantity of hot sauce to the concoction.

"If they eat this seed, it will kill them!" I remark with sinister voice.

I plant the seed and wait.

The crows arrive in their usual manner. First a lot of jabbering at tree top. Then, a scout is sent to ground, where he walks about searching the area for humans. No humans? The command is given:

"Come on down, breakfast!"

I watch.

Nothing is happening. They pull the corn and eat the seed.

"You've got to be kidding me!", I growl.

No crow seems to care. No chocking, no cries for water. The crows are chased off by my shrieks.

"This is the last straw!"

Now any fool knows that later in the season, you can go up to Elmer's Farm and buy corn at a reasonable price. This corn planting, however, has nothing to do with being reasonable. It has become war; it's a war that I plan to win.

Off to Farmer's Union, I drive: twenty-three miles each way by car. I buy some bird netting to put over my corn. After opening the package, I find it won't cover all of the corn, so my partner suggests using old fencing wire and screen, which he places around and on top of the latest crop like a bloody fort.

"Aha, nothing can get in there!" he says proudly.

I wait and watch.

The corn is growing. The crows are angry in the treetops. I think they are swearing at me. When I count their number, I fear I am in the movie: "The Birds", by Alfred Hitchcock. I am afraid of retaliation and run for cover. They do not attack. Then, as if it were a miricle, they appear to have spotted the corn in my neighbor's garden down the road and they soon depart in that direction.

The next day, I find a dove caught under the bird netting. I have no idea how she managed to get under there. Maybe she was tricked by the crows to scout it out. She broke free from the screening as I approached. Don't tell me that dove's eat corn, or, do they?

In any case, there are a few pieces of corn coming up in the garden battlefield.

You can count them: one, two, three….skip for five six holes and then a bit more corn.

Who wins in a war like this? Certainly, the crows did not get all they wanted. So, they didn't really win. However, if my gardening continues like this, I will not have won, either, and it surely will be a long hungry winter, if the last planting fails.