Oh my gosh. I used to be a fanatical, mouth-foaming crow hunter back east. I knew the smarter ones by name, and believe me, they not only knew me by name right through all the head-to-toe-to-gun camo, they knew my vehicle, my license plate number, my calling sound/style, and just how far I could hit them.
They would perform wild evasive action whenever they flew over one of our favorite but unoccupied ambush sites.
They also knew to fly over just when I put down the gun to eat a sandwich or take a leak. They were so good at knowing this we used to do those things with one eye scanning up just to get them to fly over knowing that they would. And they did and we nailed a few that way.
When seeing one perched in town while strolling about and stopping to look at it, imagining drawing a careful bead with crosshairs and gently pressing the trigger, they would more often than not suddenly fly off the instant before my mental 'shot' would fire. I firmly believe they can read minds.
Crow hunting is like a cross between coyote hunting and prairie dog shooting. The challenge of calling in a clever sneaky crafty fast-learning critter combined with fast action and a target-rich environment. When I moved out here and couldn't find any to shoot, I went through some serious withdrawal symptoms.
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