If New York pigeons are flying rats, then Tokyo crows are flying coyotes. They are big, smart, and nasty. They'll tear through trashbags, abscond with small pets and children, and smoke and gamble all night, shrieking up quite a racket.
The one thing they don't like is other crows, dead. So Hiroko, a veritable wellspring of random knowledge, commanded me to find a fake dead crow. And lo! For twenty bucks I got a life-sized, plastic fake dead crow.
He's hanging stoicly on the balcony, and I swear since he's been put up I haven't even seen one crow in the near vicinity, though I can hear them far off in the distance.
Now I wonder if I could find a fake dead New Religion peddling old woman to hang on the front porch?
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