Chaos Theory

"The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper."
-Eden Phillpotts

Recently in the House of Mater the television set became a source of trouble. Mater might sink into her armchair to watch a show or a film only to discover a crackling picture as grainy and meaningless as a cloudy sky.
A considerable amount is paid for the satellite channels, so the loss of viewing is not acceptable.
After it happened for the fourth or fifth time in as many days, Mater marched outside in a fury and looked up at the satellite dish as one does with hopes that mere observation will bring sudden enlightenment.
In this case she was proved justified: there was an old crow perched up there, his gnarled toes clinging to the edge of the dish. He shook his feathers and eyed my mother with an indifferent air.
She clapped her hands; he grew tired of the strange human business below and sailed away, leaving Mater to happily find that the television reception had resumed.
It happened again the next day though, and the day after that. Mater became aware after a while that a bird was always at fault, and, too, that it was the very same crow every time.
Each has their routine now: he sits up there and inadvertently interferes with the image that is beamed into the house; she slaps her hands together to announce that it is her time, her earned right to watch the evening news.
Without that assigned period, my mother would not have prior knowledge of the weather formations above my head, and thus would not be able to warn me- who watches no television- of rain, wind or worse in my own part of the world.
The obtuse crow, sensing Mater's frustration and panic, generally obliges and grants her the opportunity to partake of a short interim of current affairs and world news.
This I find most intriguing: it is often supposed that the flutter of a butterfly's wings could begin a sequence of events that alters the universe.
One should consider, instead, the humble Irish crow, who determines with a crafty hook of his claw whether I will carry an umbrella or a sunhat or indeed whether I will remain indoors or go strolling.
One could always, of course, look up at the sky for simple assistance in that regard but I, like many, do rather prefer the idea of all actions and all living things being connected to one another.