The other day, my dad & I were standing in his living room, looking out the front window when we hear this strange noise. Imagine, if you will, a very large crow. A sick-sounding large crow. Crowing at the top of his voice. Got that picture? Now, as we're standing, looking out his big picture window, we see his neighbor-lady walk across the street with a large plastic bag in her hand. What is she doing? Where is she going with that bag? Was she planning to do something with the poor, sick-sounding crow? Was she going to put him out of his misery, and ours? Again, we hear this poor, sick-sounding crow. But we can't see him. We see lots of crows flitting through the branches of the trees across the street, but no BIG crow. I mean, by the way this guy sounds, he's got to be BIG. Again, the crowing. And that's when we realized. It was the neighbor-lady. Crowing. To the crows. Calling the crows in. For dinner.
Only in a small town. No. Only in a two cow town. With crows.