Professor & Crow

The Professor sat in the early morning light on the common bench, a shaft of sun had struck him full in his face and he had closed his eyes and softly exhaled into the warmth.  He was dreaming.  It was a cold morning, Mary was off the lead, had seen a squirrel and had gone of dashing off into the shrubs rustling and snuffling with excitement and interest.  He would just wait for her here, in this warm, sunny corner, an old man – dozing on his stick. 

He had got up at first light, and washed and shaved, pressed his trousers and shirt, two pairs of socks these days, two jersies, cup of tea, an egg, toast and marmalade.  Give Mary had a bowl full of biscuits and off up to the common, their morning ritual.  It was barely 7.30, and not many were out.  It was early Spring and clear.  He could hear a waning chorus of birds that had dwindled to mostly the alto section of crows cawing to each other from the treetops.   He suddenly felt exhausted, life’s catching up with me, he thought.  So he’d sat down rather than his usual exercise of swinging his arms about and jogging-on-the-spot and swiveling and touching his toes, he’s sat rather heavily on the bench and was now breathing regularly ignoring the familiar view from the hill the whole of the city stretching out before him, the warm sunshine on his ancient brow. 

His thoughts were interrupted - A shadow flitted across his face – and he heard a caw quite close above his head.  Crows.  He thought, Mary would see it and come running over.  Again it flitted and cawed it must be circling – perhaps it thinks I’m some kind of carrion - must be getting there, he admitted.  He wondered if he should open his eyes, but the sun was getting stronger and warmer and to break this happy doze  would be – Whumpf!  Something heavy hit him on the crown of his head knocking his hat off.  The force of it sending his head rolling slightly forwards out of the sunlight.  He opened his eyes, expecting the counter motion to send him back again, but the heaviness did not lift, rather it remained and juddered causing more shadows and a rush of air.  The professor could feel cold rubbery points on his crown.   A single black feather floated down past his nose and settled on his knee. 

With his head bent under the unshifting weight the professor could see his shadow in the sun to the right of him, awkwardly crooked under the form of a rather large crow.  An alarmingly close caw confirmed this and the Professor feeling the five or six points on his head – were they talons? – looked at the shadow of the curved beak and wondered what to do.