Real Rain. Total Bliss.

Any amount of rain in Southern California is a gift, and it looked like Christmas came early this year when, on December 6, 2 inches of water fell on Los Angeles and environs. Record setting amounts. Water has been scant in SoCal for the last 10 years, but when we moved here from the east in 2007 it did rain in the winter and quite hard as I recall. Since then, SoCal had two droughts to make a total of 5 drought years out of the whole decade. But on Thursday of last week, the rain took out some of the PCH near Malibu with mud slides, and it snowed hard north through the Grapevine and closed off a chunk of the 5 freeway.  In North Hollywood, Vineland was a lake and Riverton a river. Rather than struggle out in the street with terrified Angelenos for parking and time, I invited Wade to stop by the apartment for coffee. 

The North Hollywood Ravens

The rain really started the day before; a change in air pressure, a brisk wind, cool with clouds, and a clear scent of moisture in the air. I craved comfort food and a warm blanket. The change in weather quieted the neighborhood bird community; you could feel them waiting for the big rain. The hard rain pounded the skylight and woke me in the night.  I happily went  back to sleep knowing, for the first time in months, the crows had no choice but to wait, wait and wait, for the next chance to pick up a stone and drop it on my kitchen skylight. But on Thursday, rain is all I heard for 48 blissful hours. The skylight is King Henry’s weapon and last great hope to get rid of me and those strangers invading their territory. I named him King Henry and his mate Queen Isabella; the king and queen who rule the NoHo crow family. 

King Henry

Henry is head honcho in charge of the strategy to eliminate the problem. Several times a day for reasons unknown, except for my interpretation and theory, the king drops pebbles and stones on my kitchen skylight. I don’t know when I first began to notice, months ago I recollect. When I first took notice, stones were heard pinging off the hard plastic dome constantly. Henry had recruited his henchmen, and certainly Bella, to fly over  the apartment building and rain down on a bitch. The skylight is only one of many intimidation methods these old raptors cooked up; blast me with their caws and fly menacing straight at me on my balcony, antagonize the dogs next door, and ruffle the feathers of all the smaller birds living in the area.  When the rain came though, Henry and Bella’s main plan no longer had any effect. 

I was grateful for the real rain while it lasted. The moment I heard the last drop fall, king and queen regrouped and solidified their reign of terror. They doubled stone-drop efforts and perched around the apartment cawing to reestablish boundary markers. All the attention stems from three persistent Venice beach crows risking even safety, to stay by my side.  I write about it now publicly, but I’ve kept a written journal documenting the earliest times with birdlife in Venice.  Living in Venice, I believe, had more difficult times when Agrippa ran around the neighborhood cloaked by a huge clan. He made life at the beach so crazy, I suffered anxiety and stress and even stopped riding my bike on the regular. Living in NoHo, he’s been relegated to the outer tree line of Henry and Bella’s territory, and direct access is almost impossible. He still tries everyday to let me know he’s around, today and always.

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