A Funeral for Crows

I was just sitting here in the car. I noticed some crows on a power line, cawing amongst themselves. A couple flew away and came back with a few more. Then a couple more flew away and more came back. Within 2 minutes, 100 crows were perched on all of the surrounding power lines and going absolutely crazy. I looked around and finally spotted what it was that they were yelling about. A dead crow was lying in a side street parking space. Next to styrofoam cups and scattered gravel. I clocked out and got out of the car and looked around. The tallest trees in the area were also loaded with crows. This was an event. There were some flying overhead but in no discernable pattern. I thought of Alfred Hitchcock and got back in the car. I realized then there was something I didn't see or get to see. None of the crows went down to check out the body. They all stood their distance as if they were privy to the knowledge of some kind of curse. Get too close, Lil Crow Jr, and who knows what would happen? When I looked back up, I noticed fewer crows. Less noise. 30 seconds later, only a few remained but they weren't speaking. It was business as usual. I got out of the car again and walked over to check for a curse. The bird didn't look good. It did not die of natural causes. And, it didn't die recently. It looked as if it had been there for a few days. I thought of the movie Stand By Me. "You guys wanna see a dead body?", asked the discoverer to his friends. I imagine all the cawing was just one word repeated over and over. To each other. To no one. To the ether.

"Fuck!"