Your heart is empty. Your soul is dead. Your brain rationalizes your need to murder something. Should you be proud of your efforts? You are a murderer. Plain and simple. What is there to be proud of? Your spirit is sick. You justify all this killing by saying that the crows deserve it because they are a varmit, well I'd hate to tell you what you deserve. And what you have earned by living your life with an evil heart. You will find out soon enough. You are a murderer. In the end, that is all you will be known for. "Yeah, he killed a bunch of crows, but that only proves that he is a heartless bastard." Nothing more. You call them a Murder of Crows. But actually it should be "A Murder of Humans", because that is ALL people like you are good at. Murder. Shame on your black heart!