I got Uncle Dave home and onto his couch. Brought in that cooler of Natty Ice and finished most of ‘em before headin’ out. I left the truck and walked the mile or so back to my place, wonderin’ what the deal with them crows was. Wasn’t my birthday. Wasn’t Uncle Dave’s either. Happy birthday my ass.
I ate some dinner with the wife, told her about the game. And the birds. Her nephew played well. Defensive end, kick-off and punt return, PTA…Hard workin’ kid who knocked a lotta boys down tonight. She was more interested in them birds though.
“So you said he was wishing you happy birthday? I never heard of such a thing. Of a crow talking. How much you boys drink again?”
“I don’t know WHO he was sayin’ it to, he was just sayin’ it. And crows definitely learn a few words once in a while. All them Corvids do. Ravens, blackbirds–Sam Everett had himself a magpie that could say “hello” and “shame” back when we were in 4-H. We drank a lot, but not ‘til we got back to Dave’s. Just a few beers at the game.“
“But why would they all just land in that one spot and sit there? I don’t like the sound of that. Were you and Dave playing with that Ouija board again?”
Two things occurred to me simultaneously when she asked that: One; We ain’t seen that board since Uncle Dave got his leg tore up, and Concurrent to One; Maybe them birds actually were our fault. When I went back out there to pick up the chairs and everything else, there weren’t no board or planchette and I hadn’t even noticed they were gone. Shit. Who knows where that damn thing was now. I needed to sleep, but I’d talk to Uncle Dave about it tomorrow.
6:56. I was staring straight at the clock, wide awake thinkin’ the alarm had gone off. But this was Saturday, so ain’t no alarm goin’ off. But there was a lotta racket outside. Comin’ from everywhere, all sides of the house. I got up and looked out the closest window. Crows were all over the gawdamn place, just goin’, CAWWWWW! CRAWW! Black clouds of ‘em, just swirling and makin’ a ruckus like I ain’t never heard. My wife got up and joined me at the window. We just stood there starin’.
“You sure you and Dave don’t have some kind of accountability in all this, Sven?”
“Don’t know.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“Don’t know.”
At 7:02, they suddenly left. The wife went to take a shower. I got dressed and headed out to consult Uncle Dave about the morning’s events. Sun was barely up and already we gotta situation. I forgot I had left the truck up at Dave’s and was more than a bit put-off discoverin’ that I was gonna have to walk back to his place. I was walkin’ along the fields on the east side of town, lookin’ at some movement out there that was too far away to really make out. But there was somethin’ out there, no doubt about it.
I slowed my pace a little bit, watched this uncertainty turn into a discernible form. Just a hump of dirt and cloth to start, but that hump was comin’ towards me and it was gettin’ taller. About fifty yards away and I could tell it was a scarecrow. Looked pretty beat up from here, but the thing was walkin’ toward me, long lanky strides and straw spillin’ out behind him, I think. I had the wherewithal to pull out my phone and take some shots as he approached, feelin’ my blood pressure elevate to the point where I could feel my pulse in my tongue. I got one last shot when he was about twenty yards away. Then I lost my nerve and ran like hell.
Dave was asleep when I arrived, but I let myself in and woke him up.
“Jesus, Ollie. Is whatever this is necessary?”
“Maybe it was just some guy walkin’ out in the field, but I think I saw a scarecrow come up outta the dirt like them boys did. I got some photos of the sumbitch too. And I think we lost that Ouija board somewhere. And them crows came back this mornin’. Stayed six minutes and left.”
I got out my phone and pulled up the last photo I took, the closest one, handed it to Uncle Dave.
“Scarecrow?”, he says to me. “That’s Neil Michael Hagerty.”