Wac the Crow
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      Our story begins in a lush forest, in a not so far away land. Wac the crow was taking a leisurely hop through the woods. A cheerful figure, that crow was. He was the gentlest, kindest bird you’d ever seen, and very enthusiastic, almost annoyingly so. The crow began cawing his favorite tune, (that didn’t sound anything like the original) and meanwhile, a chipmunk put its paws to its ears and gritted its teeth. What a horrible racket! Sounds as if something is in terrible pain.  The chipmunk thought. A horrible noise it was, indeed.
      As he continued his stroll through the woods, the crow spotted a group of wrens chirping in an old elm tree. Wac glanced up at the happy creatures, and he couldn’t resist the sudden impulse to join them. He fluttered up to the branch next to the wrens, closed his beady eyes, and began cawing along with them. The chirps gradually died out. It took Wac a long time to notice the absence of the chirping. He opened one eye, and smiled encouragingly at them, as they stared strangely at the big black crow. The grin died on his face, when a mother wren started hushing her wailing hatchling. Wac opened his beak to apologize, not really sure of what he had done, but the small birds had disappeared into the sky. One or two of them shot him fearful glances before leaving the confused animal.
      Wac sat on the branch feeling rather sorry for himself. Whenever he opened his beak, everyone went running like a bomb was about to explode. Was it something I said? He pondered what he possibly could have done for a while, and stopped when he noticed a small, fuzzy caterpillar staring at him. “Who are you looking at?” Wac grumbled at the little bug. The caterpillar hurriedly scuttled away. “Yeah, you better run!” Now Wac was alone again. Alone. The thought disturbed him. I need to go see Taots. Taots the stoat was Wac’s best friend. Though he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the cupboard.
      After an uneventful walk, Wac finally made it to Taots place. It was a large hollow oak tree, with a few small holes for light. Wac pecked on the door a couple times. After there was no answer, he pecked longer and harder. Still no answer. He narrowed his eyes. “Taots I know you’re in there, and if you don’t come out, I’m coming in!” At these words, there were several small crashes from inside the tree, and a small brown and white creature with fur that stuck up in all angles popped out of the door.
      “What’s the matter, Wac?” Taots voice was very shaky, as if it were vibrating. One of his eyes was cloudy, and almost never focused on the same subject as the other.
      “Well, today I cawed with a group of wrens, but they all left, and some of them looked frightened. One even started crying!” Wac looked at Taots desperately.
      “And..?” Taots didn’t seem concerned. “What could you expect with dirty little song birds. You can’t trust those little rascals. They probably already plotting to rob every last thing you hold dearest to your heart…” Taots said, slowly narrowing his eyes.
      At first, Wac was speechless. But he disregarded it. This was Taots, after all. “…They seemed nice enough, before I came along, anyway.”
      “That’s what they want you to think!” 
      Wac shook his head at the stoat. “Yeah, sure. Okay. Anyway, they all flew away. Why did they fly away?” 
      “Probably because they thought you were ugly.” Taots shrugged. “What song were you cawing? I’m telling you, no one likes smooth jazz anymore. Don’t caw smooth jazz.”	
      “…What if they didn’t like my cawing altogether? Ever since I was a hatchling, all my family thought I was the best caw-er in the forest…” Wac continued on for while with his little sob story, but was cut short when he realized that Taots had fallen fast asleep. “Taots!” he cawed sharply. “Wake up!”
      “Wha? Oh. Maybe, just maybe, they don’t like your caws? I dunno, something like that? …Or maybe it’s your menacing presence that scared them away!”
      Wac wasn’t listening anymore. He began cawing very loudly after Taots’ suggestion. Surely no one could dislike this. Wac thought as he cawed. 
      In a nearby tree, one particularly crabby squirrel shouted at the duo. “Shut up! Sounds like a dying animal down there!”
      “Go do us all a favor and stick your head down a bobcat’s throat!” Taots retorted.
      The squirrel made no further insults. Taots had obviously offended it. (those words are considered a heinous insult in the ears of squirrels) “Sorry,” Wac mumbled, hoping the squirrel heard.
      “Don’t apologize Wac. He deserves it. Now come on! We’re going to find you a new hobby!”
      Wac and Taots were moving quickly through the woods. One was flying and one was scrambling to keep up. Wac had no idea whatsoever where they were going. …Neither did Taots. He was winging it. Time ticked by as they continued rushing to an imaginary goal. Now they were nearly to the town, and Toats was getting desperate. He began listing off the things that he knew Wac liked to do. He likes…What does he like?! Breathing? Oh dear…Cawing? Music? But does cawing really count as music anyway? It doesn’t sound like music…but yes, I think so… Taots changed his direction. Straight for the town.
      “Sure is nice isn’t it? Two pals, thriving together in the concrete jungle.”
      Wac glanced around the town uneasily. The town? What does Taots want me to do? Wac thought cautiously. Taots on the other hand, was feeling good. These sorts of events prove what a genius he really is. (thinks he is) He beckoned to Wac with his tail. Wac hopped over, frowning. “Taots, what is this?”
      They were standing right outside a music center. All sorts of instruments hung in the windows. There were acoustic guitars, electric guitars, keyboards and various others. There was even a grand piano on a red velvet platform. “It’s your new hobby. You see, we’re going to break in after dark, and find your musical talent!”
      Wac looked as if he were about to argue, but Taots cut him off. “Come on Wac. We won’t get caught, nor will we break anything. Just wait.”
      After a very long while of waiting, the store finally closed. Taots pointed at an open window and nodded at Wac. So Wac grasped Taots’ tail and flew in. It was very dark in the store, but their sharp animal eyes quickly adjusted. “It’s go time,” Taots whispered to Wac.
      But Wac was no longer listening. He was gazing around in wonder at the possibilities around him. He hopped to an acoustic guitar, lifted a claw, and played a string; then played another string. The bird soon grew bored with these strings. He hopped past Taots, who was reared up on his hind legs in a karate chop position, to a trumpet. Wac stared very hardly at the trumpet. What was he supposed to do with this? He shook his head and flew over to the huge piano on a velvet platform. Taots barrel rolled after him.
      Wac landed right on the keys, and a jumble of notes slurred out from the piano. He winced. Then he cautiously lifted his foot and pressed the C note. The pleasant sound drifted around the room. He relaxed a little. Then the crow lifted his other foot and played both the C and E notes at the same time. Wac continued playing for a while, and though he could only play two notes at a time, sometimes three if he used his beak, it still sounded nice.
      Taots yawned loudly. “Well, I’m gonna go hit the hay. G’night Wac.” Toast curled up in the hole of an acoustic guitar and quickly fell asleep.
      Wac wasn’t the tiniest bit tired. He played all through the night, coming up with simple, yet beautiful tunes. He quickly grew much more agile with the keys. The sky began to pale, but the piano playing crow didn’t notice. What he also didn’t notice was when an amazed man settled into a chair to watch him play. When the song ended the man stood and gave him a long applause, his first applause.   
					
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