The crow lands on an
outdoor dining table, plucks a strawberry preserves packet right out of the
Smuckers eight-jam dispenser, and hops to the grass. He punctures the plastic
peel-away film on top with one swift strike of his bill. With a deftness that betrays
repeated endeavors in the past, the crow’s beak comes up dripping with the
jelly. A few minutes later he takes the nearly empty plastic packaging to the
roof of a four-story hotel. There, perched on the eaves and still dabbing up bits
of blood-red jam, he is joined by a smaller crow…who merely watches.
