Rapacious Passerines Sate Their Terrible Bloodlust On The Heads Of Gentle, Apologetic People From The North
When you think of all the horrible things that go along with living in Canada — aggressive dullness, rampant monotony, endless dreariness, the stories of Alice Munro, relentless mundanity and a permanent and oppressive sense of staleness so severe that even super-high levels of alcohol in beer cannot help overcome it — you don’t figure on “peak season where crows attack humans” as being something you’d have to contend with amid all the gloom and banality. But apparently it is indeed a thing. Crows attack humans, and the humans put up with it. And consider this warning: “[I]f you can, try not to let the crows get a glimpse of you — they have exceptional eye sight and remember faces.” As amusing as this may seem to those of us who live far away from the endless tediousness that is the daily scrublike existence of the poor souls who grind out their tragic existence in our neighbor to the north, think about this: In six months your choices may come down to living under President Trump or being pecked to death by aggressive Canadian crows while The Tragically Hip plays in the background. Not so funny now, is it?