This little chap is Inky, it could be Inky1 or Inky2 or Inky136 as I am ashamed to say all crows look the same to me. I am not even sure if it is a male or a female but for the sake of this story he is a boy. His territory includes the greenhouse, where he drinks out of the guttering and surveys his land, and the potting shed area and we have built up a certain rapport. It goes like this: I say “Hello Inky” and he looks at me with disdain. Well it suits us. Earlier today he was enjoying a feast in the long grass by the veggie garden, attacking his meal with fervour. After a few minutes of tolerating me, he took one last look at me and sighed, flying off to a more peaceful location with the remains of a snake in his beak. It may have been a slow worm. I was part impressed, part horrified. Of course it is just more of that “tooth and claw” malarkey. A little later he came to the galvanised water tank for a celebratory bath, his feathers of pure night glistening in the spring sun.