Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

I was emptying the dishwasher and hearing a faint fairly rhythmic pounding. They are doing construction on a house behind us so I stuck my head out the door to get a better listen. Nope, it was definitely not from the neighbors house. It was directly above my head on our roof. I had no fears as to a stranger walking or pounding on our roof. I knew what it was and just waited a few minutes until I heard a "thunk"! Then I stepped outside again and found the evidence: a stale, rock-hard piece of baguette. I looked up at the roof and yelled "No wonder you could not get any bites of it you stupid bird!" and I took it inside to throw in the compost. The crows in Seattle are persistent and bold, and I grudgingly admit that they are fairly clever. But that does not make me like or admire them. The only good thing about them is Etta likes seeing them out the window and pointing at them and counting them (well, she can count to two but is inconsistent with three and four). I think I would prefer pigeons, possibly even seagulls. But crows are the neighborhood nemesis. A few years back we had a whole gang of them and the ring-leader was one big bully of a bird that we could always tell apart because he had one tail feather that was white. He has gone away but I think his descendants are plaguing us.