Crows

Every morning for the past week the crows have woken me at 5.30 a.m. with their harsh yaarping and clanking. The sound reverberates around the backs of the houses; each squawk happens at random intervals and all the other birds, including the mellifluous song thrush that stands on top of the pollarded tree as though it's a pulpit, shut up to make space. Once I'm fully awake, the crows also shut up and the song thrush resumes. By that time, I can't go back to sleep.
Are they singing gorgeous songs in crowspeak? Are they 'humming to themselves' as they potter around the trees in the neighbours gardens? Are they tutting grumpily? Are they chatting amicably to their fledgelings?
All I know is that even earplugs don't work and I can't tune them out and return to dreamland. I have even thought of pasting a request to the window to politely invite them to stay asleep just an hour longer so I can catch up on much needed zeds. That's how sleepless I am.