Mr. Lobe posted:

When I lived in Seattle, I worked at a lab at UW that was about a 15 minute walk away from my apartment. At some point during my 3 year stay in that city I started feeding crows peanuts in the shell, and while they were reluctant at first, 5 or so months of patient entreaty earned me a the attention a group of birds that began to number in the dozens every time I left my home or the lab where I worked during daylight hours. Instead of merely collecting the peanuts that I had dropped in their presence after I cleared enough distance between them and myself, they began to actively follow me when I stepped outdoors and into their territory, sometimes even snatching from midair the nuts I tossed for them.

As endearing as I found them, in time I had to start walking through backstreets, alleys, and other unusual paths in order to avoid intimidating people with the mob of crows that followed me so closely. They would sometimes even menace people who crossed my path, swooping down at them to drive them away. And though I enjoyed the company of these scoundrels, I must have spent 40 dollars in peanuts on them every month to make sure I was never in short supply. I have never been much for pet ownership, but this particular relationship with animals suited me well. I never had to clean up after them, and on the occasions that I had to leave the city, I could be confident they could take care of themselves without me.

While I question whether they ever truly held for me any fondness in their little hearts or if they just saw me as a peculiar food dispenser, among them were particularly bold specimens who, on rare occasion, would land on shoulder-height walls and ledges, and permit me to extend out an offering which at times they would take directly from my hand. To know those particular birds had such trust for me felt like an accomplishment, like a communion with a wild intelligence that saw fit to abide my company, even if on mercenary terms.

Filthy Hans posted: