For 
This week's theme is Female Birds.
She's an American Crow, or maybe an American/Northwestern Crow hybrid. She lives in Southeast Portland.
Kaydee is the name I call her. I'm not sure what she calls herself, or what others crows call her, if they call her anything at all. Other people who know her and feed her might call her something else. But she knows that when I say "Kaydee," it's highly likely that a peanut or a few kibbles will be launched in her direction.
Kaydee is a mother, possibly to more crows than I know. Some of them I do know. Some may no longer be alive.
I wonder, Kaydee, if you think of past babies each spring when you build your nest. If you had any favorites. If you hope each year that one of your hatchlings will carry the souls of all the babies you lost. I wonder, too, if those years that all your nests have failed, and you continue on throughout the cycle without procreating, if you are relieved. If you are grateful for the break. Or if relief even crosses the mind of one who lives solely in the present.
⬆️contest entry photo⬆️
There are days when Kaydee stays at the back of the flock, waiting for me to toss her a snack outside of the boys' bossy perimeter. And there are days when she's bold, struts right up to me, and waits for me to shower her with kibbles and compliments.
She's a beautiful woman, this Kaydee. Even when she's funny-looking.
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