You have to imagine Young Mr. Crow sitting right there, on the wire, because when he was actually doing so I did not think to take a photo.  It was his subsequent behaviour that made me wish I had captured him from the start.  That I had gotten a few photos of him lazily preening his feathers, checking out his toes,  rubbing his head on his shoulder, absorbed in his own world,  not at all alert to the world around him.  In retrospect he was a teenager with his earplugs in.

I threw out a peanut.  Normally, when I do this, if there is a crow in sight, it immediately swoops down.  Most of the time, if I throw a peanut,  and not a bird is in sight,  one will suddenly appear and swoop down.  So it was rather unusual to see YMrC pay no attention.  I watched, fascinated, and was just on the point of getting up from the restaurant's patio, picking up the peanut,  waving it at the bird,  and tossing it again.  

He suddenly sat up straight,  looked down, spotted the peanut,  sailed down.  I suspect crows can smell food and the fragrance of peanut finally got through to whatever music he was bopping to.

Now this is funny:  he looked at the peanut as if he had never seen such a thing before.  Maybe he hadn't.  He walked around it.  Peered at it more closely.  Stepped back and seemed thoughtfully puzzled or puzzledly thoughtful.

Stepped up to it again and nudged it with his beak.

At last he put one foot on it and broke open the shell.

At one point he picked the whole thing up and I thought he was going to fly away with it but, no, he changed his mind.  Went for the other half.

A passerby startled him and he did then walk a few feet away.  Actually, maybe it wasn't the person passing;  maybe he wanted to get in the shade.  

He finished the peanut, flew back up onto the wire, sat there briefly and kept looking around, maybe wondering if another would appear.

I did not have any more.

He flew away.

A dialogue?  Yes.  The kind one tends to have with an adolescent.