I hate litter. I hate it so much I spend time on a regular basis picking it up from my office car park.
Sometimes I go out of my car park and into the Library and Health Centre parking spaces and pick up the litter there as well.
This is partly selfish on my part because I know it will be eventually blown into my car park.
Yesterday morning I got so fed up with the amount of litter the other side of my fence that I picked it all up and put it in the waste bin which is no more than five feet away from said fence.
Each time I do this I question the standards, or lack of standards, of the people who have dropped the litter.
Yesterday lunchtime I left the office and discovered there was even more litter on the ground than I had cleared up that morning. I was fuming.
Having picked it up again I went back into the office and had a real rant about the people who could possibly have done this. I used some very choice words indeed.
Later that afternoon I was back outside and, yes you have guessed it, the floor was yet again covered in litter.
Close to exploding I happened to look up and there, sat on the waste bin, was a Crow, diligently picking out every bit of litter and dropping it back on the floor in his hunt for a tasty morsel.
We “eyeballed” each other for a few seconds and I can only conclude he realised I was not a happy man. He flew off pretty rapidly.
So my lesson learned this week is not to jump to conclusions about anything and to base my opinions upon the facts, rather than conjecture.
Although the result so far is Crow 1, Nick 0.
