Each year, when this season circles back, a memory with a bitter aftertaste stirs uneasily within me.

A few years ago, as I was walking through my neighborhood, a burst of harsh, rasping caws erupted behind me. Two crows were closing in fast.

One swept low from the right, the other from the left, slicing past my head in relentless arcs. The instant a wing grazed my ear, a sharp blow landed on the back of my skull.

In that moment, my mind leapt to the ominous, almost apocalyptic imagery of “The Birds”—Alfred Hitchcock’s (1899-1980) avian horror classic, with its scenes of dark, winged shapes blotting out the sky and descending upon helpless humans below.

“March through June is breeding season for crows and parents become........

© The Asahi Shimbun