It was a beautiful morning. The dogs and I made our rounds around the property doing our daily chores. I cleaned the dog yard while Juno hunted for moles. Loki ran his daily perimeter check and implemented his standard pre-emptive strike, barking along the fence line to warn away any critters creeping too closely. The birds were chirping, the humming birds were buzzing and the sun was shining. It was a lovely day to feel happy and at peace with the world.
Then a crow squawked. "Caw! Caw!"
"Woof! Woof," replied the cracker, looking up.
I chuckled to myself. It seemed like such a fluke that Loki sounded exactly like the crow's caw. Then it happened again.
"Caw! Caw-Caw! CAW!"
"Woof! Woof-Woof! WOOF," Loki barked, responding exactly in the same intonation as the crow.
By the third round of the caw-and-woof-response, it dawned on me. Seriously? The cracker was in an argument with the crow! That peaceful, easy feeling was suddenly short lived.
The crow, looked down from the top of a 40-foot high redwood, laughed and antagonized the cracker with his caw again. The cracker was annoyed by the crow’s irreverence for his authority and power.
“Grrrrrrr! Woof-woof-woof-woof!” Loki glared upon the crow, utterly resenting him for his flight mobility.
And so it went for 10 minutes, Loki matching each "caw" of the crow, at times with such fury that all four paws lifted off the ground from the power of his bark. The crow continued to taunt him, cawing back, with no concern for the cracker’s HBO words.
Loki never had an affection for crows. He's chased groups of crows off our garden and the agricultural farms in Switzerland, multiple times, rightly so. Like Loki, the Swiss don't care for crows either.
It makes no difference if the sun is shining, the birds are singing or that it's a peaceful, happy day. The cracker is always on duty. He takes his job seriously. And I love him for it.