Under the Burrard bridge, I found a private club for crows. This one had perched himself on the ledge, then again atop a rather large chunk of gravel (I'm wondering if she flew the gravel up there too) in order to peck away at a large seed or shell of some kind. I'm really enjoying observing them these days; they seem to have such unique personalities. I dubbed this one Miss Otis, as she appeared to be having great difficulty preparing her lunch.
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