Oooh. Crows.
I've got to be in this one, can't resist. How about
:
Kadwyr is a bold and troublesome two-year-old. His dark feathers are particularly beautiful and glossy, most likely as a result of his constant preening. He’s rather small, but extraordinarily sharp-sighted and one of the swiftest of the flock, qualities that may be useful enough to get him chosen in spite of his boundless impertinence. He will, however, need to be watched carefully. Hidden things and locked boxes are an inexorable, unendurable draw to him, and he is very talented at breaking locks and at seeing what others do not. Saruman has great hopes for him as a spy, but everyone who knows Kadwyr is waiting for him to grow up.
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Kadwyr started awake at the sounds of the excitement that surrounded him. All around him, the flock was chattering, clattering, moving, waking up. He stumbled, lost his balance, and found himself suddenly aloft among many other youngsters who darted back and forth, already squawking and gossiping quarrelsomely.
But Kadwyr, for once, did not join them, at least, not for long. He dived back toward his favorite perch with a quick, surprised clack of his beak, for he had spied old Akaaw flying back toward them.
Aha, so he’s been gone, off to the tower no doubt. He knows things, our chief, he knows things that are silence and secrets and things that he’ll tell. We’ll see about this.
Kadwyr perched, momentarily unmoving, waiting for Akaaw to arrive. Soon, soon, soon, there would be news, and news was the one thing that Kadwyr most dearly loved.
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How is that?
Ah, and in case it should be useful, I have found
a very cool corvid page. I particularly like the recordings of the calls. Ah, and here's
one more.
Oh, and do we get to engage in good old-fashioned legendary crow behavior, like picking out the eyes of the slain?
--Belin Ibaimendi
[ December 13, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]