You have been hanging around the village for about a year now and I think that it is time to have a talk, woman to corvid.
I like you Brian. You are a natural avian comedian and I find it quite touching that you or one of your mates can be found perched on the fence by the footpath when I return home. Kind of makes me feel wanted.
The time that you wedged yourself into the covered bird table to get at the Christmas bacon left for the blue tits was possibly the comedic highlight of Christmas 2009, certainly funnier than a lot of what was on TV.
I also stuck up for you when you had a vendetta against the village green rubbish bin and the neighbours wanted to call the Environmental Services.
The early morning awakenings, however, have to stop. It has got so bad that the bags under my eyes now have bags. I am starting to look like Huw Edwards.*
This morning for example, did you really have to sit under my window and caw for an hour? There are plenty of better vantage points and besides there is now a crow-shaped hole in the ornamental olive tree.
The point is that if I come down and shoo you away, I don’t expect you to return.
*Poor the Huw. The Six really seems to be taking it out of him. He appears to be ageing faster than a portrait in the attic and his ties are losing their flamboyance too.