Uninvited Guests

Across the street from my bedroom window is a poplar tree that has suffered a fate common to poplars.  The tops of the tree die out due to drought.  The city planted them because they grow fast, but forgot that they only do that when in their native habitat along a river.  Away from an abundant source of water, they die off or send strong roots searching  for the nearest source of water, which in most neighbourhoods, is usually the water mains.  Most have been replaced by more appropriate trees.
The ones left become favourite gathering places for murders of crows. At his time of year when the days are long, their raucous cries can be heard from about 5:00 am to 10:00 pm.  They dive bomb pets and people who venture too close to where the nest is.  They are like the uninvited party crashers who drink too much, get rowdy and don't know when to leave.   Their loud and unlovely calls brings out the worst in me, and I admit to wanting to "stone the crows" as they say. Hopefully they will settle down a bit when the babies leave the nest.  Then maybe we can sleep in a bit longer, and enjoy the back yards without having to chase them away.
Water colour and micron pen in Moleskine wc book