A Bag of Chips

Crows must have a rich sense of humor. The familiar sound of crows making editorial comments about the people and events in their lives remind me of a certain kind of person who feels prevailed upon to verbalize every thought that passes through their brain. You know one or two, I am sure, we all do. Crows can be forgiven. At least we don't make terribly severe judgments about them, their heritage or the level of intelligence they possess. Well, maybe the level of their intelligence is just  what we do wonder about. I do. I tend to give them rather high marks in that category. 

I have read a bit about crows and ravens. Most ornithologists give them pretty high marks. And while it is interesting to read about their behavior nothing matches seeing them at work.

Several years ago I was visiting a client in Texas. Frankly, I don't even remember what city it was but it was near some very good golf courses. One of the courses was quite well known among the golfers of the world and so I thought it should be a good location for a bit of business review. The man I needed to talk with was the chairman of the board and somewhat difficult to corner during the business day, but he loved to chase the little white ball and for a few bucks and a ride across some of the most beautiful landscape in Texas he was mine for at least four hours. 

Now you have to be a bit careful about mixing business and pleasure. Business on the golf course is tricky. Generally what you do is just play golf until you are finished and then over lunch or dinner get into the business. That is really not the point here though because this is about Crows.

We had finished playing the front nine holes and stopped for a bit of food and some drinks at the little halfway house. We each got a couple of hot dogs, some chips, something to drink and headed for the tenth tee. That's just the way we do it. 

The walk from the golf cart to the Tee was a bit farther than what one normally expects but not far enough to call it a problem. We had, at that point, begun eating the various food items and left them in the cart when we went to the tee. I had honors and so I hit my tee shot and my guest stood and admired the length and accuracy of my drive. (It's my story, I get to have a good drive.) He took a couple of practice swings and walked toward the tee and then he noticed that a crow was sitting in the cart eating his potato chips. For some reason he reacted rather belligerently, yelling obscenities at the crow. We were far enough away that the crow was completely nonplussed at he enraged man screaming at him and continued to eat the chips. To my complete surprise the man dropped his club and started toward the golf cart. The crow did not budge. Then the man ran, waving his arms and yelling. This caught the attention of the crow and he picked up the chips and flew a few feet from the cart. My client continued after the crow. The crow hopped on. 

Finally, my friend got close enough to the crow and the crow dropped the bag of chips, emptied the bag and flew into a low branch of a tree and cackled at the man.

I was in stitches. My friend was not. Never have I seen such ire over a bag of chips. And that crow, my guess is he still tells that story to his kids and laughs to this day.

©Herb Ratliff, January 30, 2012, All Rights Reserved