Fluffy the Crow

	Fluffy the Crow [c] Pwl the Hraefnscribe
	Fluffy is a young crow who has left his nest and flapped-out to look for some fun on his own. Like all young creatures when they first leave the roost, he was excited and a little scared. But he could fly well, knew what to look for when foraging and wanted to explore more of the world than his parent's roosting-tree and their forage-fields. More than anything, Fluffy wanted to find more young crows like himself and have a good party................................... ......................................But Fluffy had a plumage problem: he was having a bad feather day. "KRAH! Me fevvas are all so very tattersome! Kr'rrrrrrk!" "What should I do now? Krah?" "I know!" he thought, flying up high and looking about at the other trees below. "KRAH! KRAH KRAH!" he cawed down into to the forest. "Perchance the Magic Magpie has a Spell to fixen them down!" So Fluffy glided over to see his friends who were lurking and preening in a Chestnut grove.............. "Chakka-chak-chak! Ah! Indeed!" spake the Magpie. "Thee's as discombobulated of feather as our sad little Rook. An' that'll ne'er do wellen for a Crow's child! For your dam was sleek and glossy as polished jet, and your father showed ne'er a plume out of place though he dived down through a stormy sky, which was as rough and tormented as a newbie Owl that has just killed a mouse but doesn't yet know how to unplug it. Chakka-chak!" "Hr'rrrrrrk!" interrupted the Sad Little Rook. "Take not any notice o' yon scattyfeather-longtail! She's been a-peckin' in the mushroom-patch again. Caer!" The Magpie merely stropped her beak for a few moments on a branch, and when satisfied with the steely gleam, clicked it a few times at the Rook, flicked out a black tongue and opened bill to continue......................... .........................or perhaps would have done, had not the Raving Raven decided to be darkly enigmatic and mysterious, as is the bleak way of Ravens everywhere, and intoned joyously, without a hint of sombreness: "Riven were the oaktrees, and the halls of Odin split and spewed forth a rain of skulls. Pruk! That was the day our good Fluffy Crow was hatched, that was. Pruk! 'Twas a good day for foraging among the bones of slain warriors! Pruk!" Raven blinked slowly, rustling and rattling iron-edged quills before adding, "Some even had hero-souls worthy of bearing away to Valhalla." "Eeeww! You are such a disgusting bird at times", sang the Starling, shaking out sparkly wing-glints. "But some of their shinyshiny jewelry was worth a-having and flittering off with in the dawn afore the Rooks and Jackdaws a-noticed and stole it all away! Hweee!" "Hr'k?" said Fluffy. "Wanna swap some shinies sometime? I have some pretty twigs going spare from my stick-collection." "Cheow!" Said the Wireless Jackdaw with a cheerful beakygrin. "I have several chimneyfuls of cobwebbed twigs for sale or lease, and with finance arranged if required. Buyer collects of course!" "Eh," cawed the Rook, but I have some little gold coins stashed away. Wanna deal? Caer?" "Gold! said the Magpie, flipping tail in glittery-eyed interest, "And just where did you find those? "Hr'rrrrk", said the Rook with a wily-puzzled expression. "Was in a field somewhere. A land-lost place that mine ancestors remember those Roman settlers lived upon. We watched from our nests in the trees around them and about them and over them. Hr'rrrk, and silent-noted where they buried them too. All ploughed over now, but time outta mind ago we bill-dug them out and buried-away elsewhere, along with our spare acorns. Now oaks and gold alike, Rook-treasure for many centuries passing! Caer!" "Typical!" said Raven. "Hanging out around the wretched farmer-types. Foolish too, for they usually thank you with a shotgun blast before taking the shinyshiny-gold for themselves. Not worth dealing with 'em!" Rook shrugged up his wings a little and waggled his beak from side to side, looking as mopey-serious as a little undertaker's cleric all dressed in black and trying to find polite things to intone over the coffin of a vile ruffian stabbed to death by his business associates. "Hr'rrk! Well, somebird has to eat-up all the grubs in their cropfields. Else the crops fail, the farmers are hungry... so thus starveling, would likely go back to the bad old days of eating Rook-pie! Hraek! It is indeed a sorry predicament. Damned if we do and damned if we don't. Kr'rrrh, but 'tis easy-pickings to follow the plough for wireworms wriggling in soft-tilled earth. Always something in season where the agricultural peoples are industrious and successful." Rook licked his pointy-long beak appreciatively, and added, "And me does like a billful of grubses, yes! Hr'rrrh!" Raven merely nodded, bowing slightly to the Rook, "Very well, we shall agree to differ on the unworthyness of farmers. But I remember the Romans too. Always left lots of battle-dead behind them. A jolly crowd, and easily encouraged to war and dominion. A casual croak to any good Augerer by morn would assure that legionaries were told 'Victory!'...and thusly decide it would be a good day for hacking their foes with shortswords. And so we had fresh meat by dusk. Not that we cared who killed who: we Ravens were always the ultimate victors. Pruk! Those were the days!" "Bah-caws", said Rook, "That is not an efficient means of food-production to support a full-sky of Corvids. A much better strategy was ours: to encourage them to live long, yet as slaves; to work the land and sow seeds to feed themselves and their ground-beasts. Hr'rrk. But as you say, we shall agree to differ on this matter.... Noting that we have never been able to eradicate these hominid pest-species. And besides, our dear Fluffy is now looking preened and cheery enough for a party. Has somebird been feeding him happy-frog pills?" Ah, said Raven, "Indeed. Yon Maggoty-Pye has had her usual wicked-way! Prukkkk! And so, my black-winged children of the darkest night, what is the moral of this story?" "KR'RRRRRRK!" They chanted in unison, for allbirds of the Corvidae know the unwritten answer to this traditional riddle-caw of the Ravens........................... "TAKES TIME AND A CAREFUL BEAK TO SHINE A FEATHER BLACK!" And with that, they all flew off into the sunset to find a jolly good rave to haunt......... [c] Pwl the Hraefnscribe