Sunday, March 13, 2016

Revenge of the Crows


True story:

Crows. Those big, black scavengers of the air. In the fall and winter, those birds would wreak havoc with pedestrians and shop owners in the downtown area of the city where I worked, gathering in large numbers to roost in the trees in Central Park or, as we called it, The Square.

This particular area was home to numerous shops, stores, taverns and restaurants, bustling with activity. When fall came, the store owners and shopkeepers fought a constant battle with the thousands of birds, who, when they were startled or took flight, would often leave droppings...everywhere. It was a morning ritual, seeing the business owners outside hosing off the sidewalks and awnings, a really nasty headache and health hazard for they and their customers. The city had installed electronic noise makers, put fake snakes in the trees...nothing helped alleviate their chosen roosting area. Crows, being the highly-intelligent creatures they are, would soon figure out that the anti-crow measures were not a threat.

We, the police, saw them as an opportunity, a tool to be used against our brothers and sisters in blue.

The thought first occurred to me one night as I and another officer circled the square in our cruisers, illuminating the crows with our spotlights, flashing the beams wildly from side-to-side; this would startle the flock, causing the illuminated sky to turn black with them as they filled the air, their thousands of crow-voices 'cawing'. It was quite the spectacle and racket.

After emptying the trees, Big Jim pulled up next to me, facing the opposite direction, so that we were window-to-window; we'd both cracked our windows about two inches so that we could carry on a conversation and laugh about our aggravation of the winged rats.


We engaged in this activity knowing we'd have to use the power washer in the police garage to clean our cruisers but the entertainment was worth it.

Until one of the black sharpshooters nailed me on the shoulder through that small, open space.

Big Jim ( so called because he was six-foot-five and 300 pounds; a guy you wanted with you if you had to handle a bar fight ) laughed uproariously, tears streaming down his face...a face that greatly resembled that of the late, great comedy actor Dom Deluise. Of course, by the end of our nightly tour, the entire shift knew about the incident. I took a lot of ribbing.

A few nights later, Big Jim and another officer were dispatched to a minor complaint at an apartment just southeast of The Square; nothing major, but I'd decided to cruise by just to be safe. Their cruisers were parked at the curb in front of the apartment building, which sat probably thirty yards from the street, and they'd just finished the call and were exiting the building. It was then that I noticed the leafless trees in the yard of the building, which overhung the sidewalk leading to the entrance, were absolutely filled with roosting crows.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Waiting until they'd gotten about a third of the way back to their cars, I spotlighted the birds, causing the mass to take flight...and crap. Everywhere. On Big Jim, on the other officer ( in war, there will be collateral damage ), their cruisers...it was a beautiful thing. I could actually hear the 'splats' on the sidewalk of those 'bombs' that missed their mark. Big Jim and his partner started running for the safety of their cruisers; I'd never seen my large pal run so fast. As I drove away, my laughter couldn't drown out the stream of profanity hurled in my direction by both officers, Jim's voice being the loudest.

Some memories, even after all the years that have passed, are still sweet.