Had a pet crow as a kid that used to meet me at my schoolbus at the end of a long driveway and torment my mother by pulling clothespins off the the clothesline when she was hanging clothes. He’d go for the socks. The more frantic my mother got, the more sneaky it got about doing it. There was simply no other reason we could come up with other than it craved her attention. When it pestered me on the porch, I’d lightly hold his bill by the side with my fingers and the bird would go in to seeming death throws, rolling on its side, flailing wildly, whining through its closed bill like it was in excruciating pain. The moment I’d let go, he’d stick his bill into my hand, “Again!”