Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds, Baked in a pie.
I have mad crows on my farm and I have mad fish.
(I, however, refrain from mad-dom as much as possible. Some days are easier than others.)
My little Disney dog, Strudel-Doodle, is a loving, kind dog. She is easy to get along with and loves everyone. Except. For. The. Crows.
Strudel-Doodle hates crows. I don’t know how this prejudice against crows developed, but it is strong and it is sure. She came to me with it. Hawks? no problem. Robins? whatever. Canada Geese? bring them on. But crows? Oh my lands. She goes mad, the crazy kind. She becomes mad, the angry kind. She chases them out of the airspace over her yard. Something about crows.
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