The crows were going mad. I peered out the back door; they were circling some trees across the cul-de-sac behind us, driving away what looked like a young hawk.

But that’s not the amazing thing.

I watched as they settled, almost in awe of their cooperative aerial stunts. Then peace returned, and they spread out to look for food.

And who should come winging into my backyard, settling on the lip of the birdbath to take a drink and preen his crooked tail and the white spot on his side?

JERRY HAS BEEN SIGHTED, GENTLEFOLK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Same white spot, same fucked-up tail.

The JERRY WATCH 2021 SITUATION can now be marked a success. I guess he was just temporarily drunk? Or fledging, though he looks far too big?

Anyway, JERRY HAS BEEN SIGHTED. JERRY IS NO LONGER FUCKED OFF.

Carl and Sandra showed back up too. Carl dive-bombed Jerry.

I think Carl may have been yelling “GET OUT OF THERE, REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?”

And this is how nuts I am, my beloveds. I slid the French door open just a tad, just enough, blocking a Very Interested Boxnoggin who had his nose pressed against the glass.

And I finally—FINALLY—got to do what I’ve been longing to do for DAYS.

Yes, my darlings.

I took a deep breath and howled, “FUCK YOU, JERRY,” into the backyard.

@lilithsaintcrow On behalf of the fediverse, THANK YOU.

I've been yelling "FUCK YOU JERRY" at *everything* that went even the slightest bit sideways this week.

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@sleepychris …you are not the only one, my friend. Not even close.

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