The stoned crows

Whilst walking back from the supermarket, I heard the sound of many crows cawing.  As I drew closer to the source of the sound, I found about four dozen, maybe more, glossy black birds swarmed and perched around a particular tree.  They covered the telephone lines, and weighed down nearby shrubs.  The tree they were focused on has sort of dogwood-looking leaves, and is hung with many fruits which resemble miniature red soccer balls.  Several of the crows had these fruits clenched in their claws, and were tearing at them, gobbling them up.  More crows were swooping in and pulling the fruits off the tree.  The whole murder of them would be relatively quiet, then unpredictably break out in what became unison cawing.  I stood a ways away, transfixed by this behavior. Maybe I was imagining this, but it seemed they grew more raucous and crazy-sounding the longer they kept grabbing the fruits and eating them; perhaps a drunken corvine happy hour?