The rOsCommoN Crow.

When I go home to Roscommon I always go up to the castle to visit the crows.

The crows that are there today are decendants of the crows that flew around the Castle when I was playing soccor there as a child.

Or the ones that watched me kissing girls as a teen.

Or the ones that watched me cycling out the Racecourse road to go fishing in Castlecoote.

Or the ones that's saw me cycle to school.

Roscommon town crows are the very same as other crows except for the accent.

They hatch out of their eggs and are fed by their mothers as they were fed by their mothers before them going back well beyond the Famine and invasions and attacks on the Castle.

They learned how to be Roscommon crows.  How to find food and stay safe and find a partner and sit on eggs and raise chick's.

The same way every time. Changing nothing in the book of crows. As I write this it's 10 am in Roscommon, a crisp 8 degrees and partially cloudy.

My crows are getting about. My crows.

They are fully formed and mature and full crows.

It always makes me think.

Am I a full formed human? What did I learn from the nest? Am I the exact same as my ancestors?

Can I improve the line?

Can I lift my game ?

Can I pass on what I've learned to my chicks?

Will my people always be getting it so wrong.

Or should I just be a happy Crow set in my ways.

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