Every spring the neighborhood crows visit our river birch tree, which I can see from the window by my desk. I’m banging away on the computer and the flutter of movement catches my eye.
About the time the diminutive catkins droop and the leaves come on, the crows show up. They proceed to tug on the spindliest twigs (which the river birch has lots of). When they successfully pull one free, they fly away with it and I suspect they are nest building. Winter winds have broken off some of the small branches and twigs, and there are often bits on the ground under the tree. I used to wonder why the birds didn’t take the easily accessible debris.
Now I think the live twigs are more pliable for nest building. But really, who can know the mind of a crow?
Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now 