Leila has mentioned a certain book to me a couple of times, and as you longtime readers know, I'm interested in how brainy crows are, so why wouldn't I want to read the true story of a lady who ends up raising a rook and a magpie? Turns out there are no reasons. So if you like the same things I do, pick yourself up a copy of Corvus by Esther Woolfson. Esther writes in an almost pedantically eloquent style that on its own wouldn't tell you whether the book came out last year or in the 1890s. Initially I thought her refusal to be hurried through a sentence might annoy me (as you know, I have a hair-trigger prose allergy that can easily flare up) but very quickly it becomes relaxing. Unlike much catchy, cool, enthusiastic writing, this won't give you a headache. You start to feel like you're in a vintage rowing boat, gliding downstream, reaching out to brush the hanging blossom while someone tells you about the peculiarities of their life and the wonders of the natural world as they pertain to the mysteries of crows. And that makes for a good book.