The Monterey county inn offered a special rate. The deal included a “breakfast basket.” Around 8:30 am someone would knock. On the step they would leave a basket with packaged pastries, juice, fruit, yogurt, and hardboiled eggs, which you could draw inside and consume at leisure.
They warned that birds might steal from your basket if you left it out too long. True.
The first morning I didn't retrieve the basket for several minutes. I came out to find that a crow had seized an egg, and was attacking it with powerful blows of its large black beak. I rescued the egg. The crow had barely started, cracking the shell, exposing the yolk, but eating only a teaspoon's worth.
The second morning I lurked. I had angled the shutter slats so I could see without being seen. At the knock, I rushed to peer. Already a crow was striding up the path with long confident steps of its shiny black legs.
I think not. I opened the door and the crow wheeled and fled. I enjoyed that. I refrained from shouting a lecture after the crow about how it should be foraging on wild foods. Or asking how it would like it if someone ate its egg.
Once I stayed at a place in Mendocino County, in much wilder country, with fancier breakfasts (frittata! cobbler!), where the competition was so severe that they enclosed the baskets in heavy lidded wooden boxes. That time I didn't have to fight wildlife to eat.
If I go again, maybe I'll wait and see who tries for the food, and how. I could leave tools around and see if they select any. Perhaps that's entrapment, legally, but since I have no plans to prosecute, evidence doesn't have to be admissible. No plans at present – if they get the cobbler, that could change.
DDWESQ
They warned that birds might steal from your basket if you left it out too long. True.
The first morning I didn't retrieve the basket for several minutes. I came out to find that a crow had seized an egg, and was attacking it with powerful blows of its large black beak. I rescued the egg. The crow had barely started, cracking the shell, exposing the yolk, but eating only a teaspoon's worth.
The second morning I lurked. I had angled the shutter slats so I could see without being seen. At the knock, I rushed to peer. Already a crow was striding up the path with long confident steps of its shiny black legs.
I think not. I opened the door and the crow wheeled and fled. I enjoyed that. I refrained from shouting a lecture after the crow about how it should be foraging on wild foods. Or asking how it would like it if someone ate its egg.
Once I stayed at a place in Mendocino County, in much wilder country, with fancier breakfasts (frittata! cobbler!), where the competition was so severe that they enclosed the baskets in heavy lidded wooden boxes. That time I didn't have to fight wildlife to eat.
If I go again, maybe I'll wait and see who tries for the food, and how. I could leave tools around and see if they select any. Perhaps that's entrapment, legally, but since I have no plans to prosecute, evidence doesn't have to be admissible. No plans at present – if they get the cobbler, that could change.
DDWESQ
ahaha, love it.
we reminisce about jonathan's saddest birthday -- when we put the costco cake (wrapped in firmly in plastic!) outside for a couple of horus to keep it cool and the crows and squirrels tag-teamed to get the plastic off and eat it. (we rescued an untouched corner and ate it anyway. shut up, that's not gross.)
Posted by: marjorie | March 26, 2010 at 07:16 AM
So clever, especially since I bet that cake did not resemble anything found in nature....
Posted by: Susan McCarthy | March 26, 2010 at 09:15 AM