A Flap of Crows

The bare branches were shaking, twigs rattled like ill-fitting teeth. I thought: 'any moment now the coal black lumpiness of them will break a bough, and all tumble down or up, creating sky-slides of avian tumult'. They jousted at each other, clattering their sharp quilled feathers like angry Black Knights. The very air shook as they bounced, up and down imitating hooligans on a drunken spree - rowdy 'caws' assaulting all ears. Then, in a sudden spray of alarmed confusion they scattered, wheeling away, in every direction. From behind a thick-glass window, someone must have muttered: Shoo!