We have “Commuter Crows” in our neighborhood.
We call them that because they arrive every evening, flying east from who knows where. They land in the avocado tree next door, cawing and hollering and raising a ruckus. It’s Happy Hour in the avocado grove! They squabble among themselves, have a few beers and maybe some guacamole. Then they leave en masse, as suddenly — and loudly — as they came, continuing east along the Crow Super Highway in the sky, until they vanish out of view over the crest of Double Peak.