Crows, Crowing, Crowed

I have a thing about crows.

Why, I do not know.

Crow, crowing, crowed.

A little nonsensical haiku for you. It is late, AND, a big ice storm cometh. I need to sleep and rest up for the days ahead as an impending ice storm makes me ill. We have had two major (they said 200 year) ice storms. One in 2001 and again in 2007. Anyone with the misfortune of living through these terrible acts of nature will know why I ramble on about this. I would rather have tornadoes around my house than ice storms. Now, the indians (I think the Cherokee), think of crows as a bad omen. I just like them. I have them all over the house in various forms; collect them for some reason and also paint them or sculpt them. Maybe I used to be a crow. The first pic is of a large oil painting I painted, The Crow's Picnic. Click on the pic to see them closer up. The second pic is a crow decoy; who would think of hunting crows? I have many decoys and was shocked that someone would hunt a crow. The third pic is a baby crow sitting on a yearling horse's mane, holding on for dear life. The horse is bucking to try and get it off its back. It is one of my life-sized paper sculptures I told you about. I'll show pics of the pony later. The fourth pic is a wool wall hanging by an artist named Earlene from Coweta, OK. Crows are very smart, except for one. Years ago, I saw a crow bothering an owl in a tree out in front of my house. Would not leave that owl alone. Next morning, the crow was on the ground, deader than a doornail. Another bad thing happened to a few more crows. The old meany that lives down the road (the original old crow) shoots them and hangs them around in her trees upside down. Guess it is supposed to scare more crows away. Oh, I guess enough said about crows. Love you guys. And I'm so happy to have you virtually in my life.