O, WOE IS CROW

This morning in the early dawn drowse (did I mention the rain?) I heard right outside my window on a branch of the cherry tree - and then looked out and saw - a solo kid crow (think Baby Huey in black) grumbling and griping and murmuring about the cruel fate of his life, how poor and hungry, destitute, helpless and orphaned he was, boohoo sobsob mumblereumble, and how unfair this world was to such a worthily beautiful and deserving yet innocent unfortunate as he, abandoned, starving, unfed, moangroan, oh so hungry sobwail, all in a roiling guttural lament that went on and on until his much smaller, clearly undernourished mother came flying out of the rain with a big beakful of gourmet quality crow breakfast and shoved it down Huey's suddenly silent wide-open throat, he the while gurgling "mmm-mmm-boy that's good, delish, smack, chomp, slurp, more, more" and so on until Mama had given him all she had, when she flew off into the downpour to get more food for her very special, wonderfully helpless Baby Huey, who after preening his Ferrari body to a suitable sleekness returned to his endless rumble-bumbling lament, not going so far as to actually pull his feathers out in anguish, or fix up a nice strong noose on a higher branch, yet despairing at length over his foodless fate, chokesob, and how he could be abandoned here so very -gasp- hungry, while keeping a careful dark eye out for his chow-laden Mama, who would be back any minute with the next delicious serving he so eminently deserved. Adolescents don't differ all that much among the species.