In my experience, it is not often you get a crow for Christmas. Indeed, until last month, I don’t think I had been given a crow on any festive occasion. Naturally, I was duly awestruck when, on Christmas Day just past, I unwrapped from its packaging a splendid crow. I named it Tippi (of course) and, rather belatedly, here is a snap:
I am hoping that in future Tippi will be making corvine contributions to Hooting Yard. However, given that it is a mute, plastic crow, these may be few and far between.
A fine-looking crow, sir – as plastic crows go, certainly one of the best. Idly trawling the interweb, I note that there used to be a Native American leader from the Lakota tribe called Frank Fools Crow, whose father was also named Fools Crow, and whose mother was called Spoon Hunter. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Fools_Crow)