New Crow Saga and Writing Tips

For the past three weeks, a baby red-tailed hawk — let’s call him “Red” — visits every morning after I feed Poe (crow) and family, Navi (squirrel) and family, Hip (chippie) and family, and Meep (blue jay) and family.

Red came here for one reason, and one reason only — revenge for killing his mother.

Crows and hawks are mortal enemies. But crows are so intelligent and protective of their territory, they are usually the aggressors. Self-preservation at its finest. In battle, it’s safer to stay on offense than defense.

Red was smaller than a full-grown American Crow — fledglings usually are — but that didn’t stop him from trying to attack Poe. Every time Poe flew from tree to tree, the hawk followed.

As Poe slalomed through the trees with Red inches from her tail-feathers, my heart stalled.

Fun fact: A crow’s tail-feathers detach without pain, allowing them to break free from a predator.

It struck me as odd that Poe didn’t retaliate. Not once! I couldn’t figure out why. Did she feel bad about killing Red’s mother? Nah. That didn’t make sense. Poe protected her family. An adult red-tailed hawk will kill a crow fledgling, if they can catch ’em.

Captivated by the aerial pursuits for almost two solid hours, I got the feeling Poe was amused by Red’s antics. Cute little guy trying to act like a big shot. She purposefully flew in front of Red to wind him up. I swear she enjoyed tormenting him. Poe’s such a rascal. To me, it felt more like a game of Russian roulette. But hey, I’m not an expert aerialist like her. Crows can outmaneuver most birds. Hence why they’re so successful as a species.

When Red got too aggressive, Poe let out an alarm call. Within seconds, her murder soared in.

All sixteen crows surrounded Red in neighboring trees. The little guy didn’t stand a chance. Hawkeyed 😉 on Poe, he also refused to leave.

Vendettas… they can warp one’s sense of reality.

Hours bled into days. Every morning, I gaped, panic risen in my chest but helpless to do anything about it. Though I’m Team Crow, I kinda felt bad for Red. An emotional rollercoaster of my own creation because of a similar experience.

Two years ago, this enormous sharp-shinned hawk targeted Poe’s family, and I watched in awe as the murder gathered with military precision. Poe and Edgar stomped on one wing, Allan and Thoreau lifted the other, and they barrel rolled this monstrous bird till she spiraled to her death.

I jolted to my feet and cheered.

The happy buzz didn’t last long.

The sharp-shinned hawk had a new fledgling, who must’ve been hiding in the trees. This little dude flew to the asphalt and attempted to drag his mom off the road before the crows could feast.

Tears flooded my eyes. Even the murder stopped, quieted, and bowed their heads.

Sure, they protected their family, but corvids are empathetic beings. They feel a lot more than humans give them credit for.

In the last decade or so with Poe, I’ve witnessed a wide range of emotions, from the depths of despair from losing one of their own to unadulterated excitement and joy, and the beautiful bonds of love shared between lifelong mates. I was also present when Allan tried to woo a female, and felt the sting of rejection when she flew off with a different suitor. Poor baby sulked in my yard for days.

Another hawk hadn’t died in my presence till the red-tailed mother targeted Poe’s fledglings a few weeks ago. And again, the baby hawk (now known as Red) hid among the safety of the woods and watched his mother fall to her death.

For those who may judge Poe for her actions, lest we not forget natural selection — only the strong survive.

If a predator entered your home, would you kill to protect your family? In my state, it’s legal to do so.

On the holiday weekend, I had plans to drive to the seacoast on Friday. I hated to leave, but what could I do? Still, everything within me warned me not to go.

Would Poe be all right when I returned on Tuesday? The question whirled on an endless loop for the 2.5 hour drive south, reappeared during quiet moments, and returned with a vengeance for the entire ride home.

The moment I stepped out the driver’s door, Poe cawed from the tree beside me. I could breathe again. The next morning, I’d barely stepped inside my sunroom/office after feeding my furred and feathered family when Red barreled across the yard after my beloved Poe. Only now, Red’s chest had filled out. He still stood shorter than Poe but not by much.

Once again, Poe refused to retaliate. The murder surrounded Red like before, but it didn’t faze him. In two weeks, he’d packed on the pounds by feeding on chipmunks, jays, cardinals, mourning doves, and any other little bird or critter he could catch.

Today, Red matches Poe wing to wing, head to tail. Edgar, Allan, and Thoreau still outweigh him but not for long. Red’s transforming into a dangerous predator who’s hellbent on punishing Poe.

While writing this story, I stopped three times when the aerial fights heated up. Think Poe will give the call to retaliate? Still no. And it’s killing me! What is she waiting for?

None of the crows seem all that bothered by Red. Maybe he’s not big enough yet to be considered an actual threat? No idea. All I know is, if this feud doesn’t end soon, I may need a cardiologist.

On Friday (Nov. 1), I’m heading out of town to go house-hunting. By the time I return, Red will be even bigger. It’s like Poe’s waiting for a worthy opponent to emerge. Let’s hope she doesn’t wait too long. Red has the heart of a lion, the drive of a cheetah, and the attitude of a hippo king.

Sorry to say, the saga continues… I’ll fill you in once I have an ending.

As writers, what can we learn from this story?

  1. The hero needs a worthy opponent. Otherwise, they’re playing a foolish game.
  2. Every motivation has a reaction. To see this in action, read this story about Poe and a sweet raven named Rave. The corvid saga concludes with a fun way to test your story with color.
  3. Stories need conflict and obstacles. Don’t let anyone achieve their goals easily.
  4. Face your fears, dear writer. Don’t avoid the blank page because you suffer from imposter syndrome or fear failure. No one can edit a blank page. If you’re having trouble or feel blocked, do writer sprints or free write, as JSB advised a time or two.
  5. White space is your friend. Don’t overwhelm the reader with long blocks of text. Test paragraphing on your Kindle, tablet, or e-reader app.
  6. Don’t end your story with a cliffhanger. I had no choice, but in fiction, we need a believable ending.
  7. Like the POV character, the villain must want something. What drives each of them?
  • I want peace.
  • Poe wants to protect her family.
  • Red wants revenge.

I think that about covers it. Did I miss an obvious writing lesson?

Nature Provides Amazing Opportunities

By Sue Coletta

It’s no secret that I’m a huge animal lover. Folks who follow me on Twitter may’ve noticed my interest in wildlife, conservation, and protecting our ecosystems.

When our last two dogs crossed the rainbow bridge, part of me died right alongside them. In 10 years we’d lost eight dogs, seven of which died to cancer and one to a brown recluse spider bite. I longed for another to help fill the void, but my husband couldn’t go through the pain again. I understood. Nonetheless, I still grappled with the lack of pitter-pattering of paws across the hardwood. The house didn’t feel the same.  

To help heal, I turned to nature. The woods surrounding our house had to be teeming with life. Surely some little fella needed love.  

At the time, I was writing Blessed Mayhem and had studied crows extensively. How hard could it be to befriend a crow?  

One day, I piled peanuts on the grass. Circus peanuts, unsalted. In my research I’d discovered that circus peanuts are high in carbs. It takes a high-carbohydrate diet to flap wings. Within thirty minutes, a crow landed in the yard. A bubble of joy burst inside me, a tidal wave of love shattering the protective layer of my heart.  

“Poe?” I said, blurring the lines between fact and fiction.   

Unlike in my book, my Poe turned out to be female. The only reason I knew this was because a few days later, she brought her mate, Edgar, who was noticeably larger. Poe struts with an unmistakable wiggle to the hips and Edgar acts as the great protector. A real man’s man, if you know what I mean. The proud parents flew peanuts back and forth to their nest … in the woods across the street.  

OMG, they had chicks! The helplessness that had consumed me each time cancer stole another dog from us, withered away like lilies in a frozen pond.  

Days turned into weeks as I marveled at their intelligence, grace, and loving nature. My husband got swept up, too. 

Then we had a new visitor. The Marilyn Monroe of squirrels, this gorgeous dirty-blonde with a swanky strawberry-blonde tail sauntered into the yard. Hesitant at first but making a b-line for the peanut pile. Uh-oh, she could be trouble. Would Poe and Edgar accept her, or would they retaliate for the intrusion?  

Since I’d already matched the crow names to fictional pets, why not stay consistent? From that day forward, the sexy squirrel became Shawnee. Then I noticed she was pregnant. If Poe didn’t accept her, how could I ever kick her out? Better lay out two piles of peanuts from now on. 

Fights broke out between the two mothers as I bit all my fingernails to the quick. And then something amazing happened. Little by little, day by day, the taunts, lunges, and overall discourse lessened. It’s like they’d struck a deal — you stay on your side of the yard and we’ll stay on ours. With tiny mouths to feed, the kids remained their top priority.  

Just like that, harmony was restored.  

Neither Poe nor Shawnee cared when Hippy joined the party. Hip is a tiny chipmunk who at the time hadn’t even formed stripes yet. Instead, two dotted lines trailed down his back. My heart puddled into goo. Hippy must be the most enthusiastic of his kind. Each time he scores a peanut he leaps a good four-to-six inches into the air, as if screaming, “Hip, hip, hooray!”

Poe and Edgar brought the chicks once they were old enough to fly. Tears teemed my eyes as they taught their babies how to crack peanut shells against the rock. Their beaks weren’t strong enough yet to pry the shell apart. Shawnee brought her babies, too. Two older chipmunks joined Hippy. That was it. No other birds, no other animals of any kind. Until the sun set in the night sky, when Foxy Lady and her kit, Cornelius, ensured the yard was properly licked clean. Jeff, the opossum, and two of the fattest raccoons on record, the Fatty Patty Twins, also helped with the clean-up. Albeit in shifts. The night crew story I’ll save for another time before this post morphs into a book. 

Back to Poe, Shawnee, and Hip … 

In the yard, I designated a pile of peanuts for each family and they stayed at their respective piles, never encroaching on their neighbor. The two mothers formed the foundation for a mutually beneficial arrangement and everyone played fair.  

The nice thing about crows is, they know how to keep a secret. This becomes especially true with places they feed. Sure, they may bring a guest here and there, but it’s a one-shot deal. If the visiting crow(s) try to hang around, Poe and Edgar escort them past the property lines. Crows also aren’t opposed to playing dead next to a consistent source of food, so other crows flying by will think the feast is toxic. They really are smarter than fifth-graders! 

In New Hampshire, winters are long and brutal. This fact alone worried me. How would my new fur-and-feathered-babies weather harsh conditions? Little did I know, they worked out a solution ahead of time: me. If it isn’t obvious by now, I’m an easy mark, and they knew it from day one. A tilt of the head, a swish of the tail, and I’m out the door, trudging through two feet of snow. My husband also isn’t immune. Thank God, too, because someone needs to shovel a path for them. He’ll even clear the snow around the bottom of Shawnee’s tree so her feet don’t get cold when she climbs down.

During the same blizzard, Odin, our chatty raven who loves to hang out on my deck railing, sang for his breakfast around 6:00 a.m.  

Crows and ravens have an amazing range of calls, which include mimicking other animals. They can even imitate us!  

Once the snow arrived, I moved peanut piles up a level to shorten my trek. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but that slight alteration caused a major shift. The waft of peanuts caught the attention of blue jays, who wasted no time in muscling in on the action. Shawnee’s kids had kids of their own, or she’d spilled the beans to one of her squirrel suitors. Between you and me, she’s a bit of a floozie.  

The harmony in the yard became a massive feeding frenzy, new squirrels zigzagging around crows, blue jays divebombing from all directions, warring with one another in mid-air while Poe and Edgar played referee. Add in an adorable red squirrel, aptly named Wile E. Squirrel, and I created the perfect storm. Absolute madness unfolds daily around here … but everyone’s fat and happy.   

The truly beautiful thing is, Poe and Shawnee still eat wing to tail without even so much as a harsh glance. Even after all this time they’ve never broken that initial vow to put family first. Can’t say the same for their offspring, though. If a baby squirrel tries to take off with one of the suet squares (yes, I cut them into bite-sized pieces), the Poe clan gangs up on the poor little fella. Massive black wings flapping behind you will make anyone drop their stash.  

I’ve also witnessed new behavior. Poe and Edgar’s kids – who are huge by the way; they take after their Dad – line up on the lower level, their backs concealed by the skeletal-branches of the bushes. When one of the baby squirrels takes off down the hill with a mouthful of nuts, the wings spread. If he makes it past the defensive line, they soar after him. It’s not like there isn’t enough food to go around, either. I go through 15-20 lbs. of peanuts per week. Maybe stolen food just tastes better.  

Spending time with wildlife is one of my favorite ways to relax. Enjoying nature is an excellent excuse for taking a well-needed break from the computer. Thanks to Jim, TKZers know why it’s important for writers to step away from their WIP from time-to-time.  

My neighbors probably think I’ve lost my mind … again. Passerby’s certainly do. Twice a day, if I haven’t been beckoned, I stand in the yard, hands cupped around my mouth, and call into the sky for Poe. A caw always echoes in return. Within minutes of closing the sunroom door, the yard erupts – a Coletta family signal that a new day has begun.  

It’s impossible to have a bad day when you’re surrounded by tiny paws and talons. Let’s start the week off on a fun note. Do you feed the wildlife around your house? Tell me about the animals in your life.