This morning a murder of crows was flying around the house cawing their heads off. Phoebe doesn't like noises that she can't immediately identify, so first we had to snuggle while I reassured her that everything was alright and then—of course—we had to go watch them flap around and yell about whatever it was they were yelling about.
Was it the impending storm? Was there (as Zoë believes she saw from her bedroom window because she also got up to watch the crows) an owl or a hawk tormenting them? Was it merely a territorial dispute between crow factions?
We will never know, but we did have a fun time watching them. And listening, I suppose, though their song is not precisely...beautiful.
And take a look at Phoebe's bed head:
She tosses and turns all night long and wakes up with this dandelion puff of a mane, which I then wet down and brush out, and then it coils into her adorable little ringlets (that we aren't sure how she got but sure do appreciate because they're just so sweet).
It was a fun (and noisy) wake up call!
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