Out with my dog this evening, a sudden movement in the still mostly-bare branches over my head drew my attention. A solitary crow perched in a low cleft of a locust, solid black against spring green and gray sky. A small nest spiraled compactly in the tree fork at the bird's feet, and before I could look away, its head darted forward. I gasped when it emerged with a sky blue egg in its obsidian beak. Unremorseful, or merely unaware, the crow took wing and was quickly out of sight.