Note: The Husband and I were in another town for a few days for work meetings. We were walking around one night, on our way to find somewhere to get food, when, on a dark, deserted road, this happened.
Me: (points up) Hey, look, crows.
Snowman: Yeah, that’s an oddity in Atlantic Canada.
Me: No, look, there’s a bunch of them. Flying this way.
Snowman: Crebain from Dunland?*
Me: Maybe. Want me to push you in that bush?
Snowman: Let’s wait and see first. They might—
(We come around the corner to find a dead field full of hundreds of crows. And more flying in every second. They’re not doing anything, except one or two who are calling. They’re just…standing. And looking at us.)
Me:…Is it just me or did it get Hitchcocky all of a sudden?
Snowman: It’s…a little…what are they doing? Are they roosting for the night or something?
Me: Looks like a meeting.
Me: Meeting. That’s why they’re not talking yet. They’re got some important shit to talk about and they’re waiting for us to leave.
Snowman: I doubt they even know we’re here.
Me: Yeah? Then why are those ones watching us? (Points up at power line overhead, where three crows are tilting their heads to watch us walk by. They look pissed.)
Snowman:…Now it feels more Edgar Allan Poe than Hitchcock.
Me: Security for the meeting.
Snowman: Oooookay…Maybe we should walk a little faster.
Me: No, we’ll tip them off. Just act normal.
Snowman: You mean normal like when I’m walking through a murder of crows while my wife tells me they’re plotting something?
Me: Yeah. That should be normal for you at this point.
Me: I wonder what they’re meeting about?
*Because a day without a Lord of the Rings reference is like a day without sunshine.