I have several muses, a giant Froggie, a beautiful marble statue of a goddess, and now, a crow from an interesting new company called Metalbird.usa.
The company makes metal cutouts of birds to hang on trees outside, but I saw this crow and fell in love with it. I wanted it in my office. I’ve always loved crows, long before I knew that crows are often associated with death.
Biologists say that crows view death, at least in part, as a “teachable moment” for other crows, something humans would do well to emulate.
For crows, say, crow scholars, death is a signal of danger and is something to be avoided. This fear of a potentially deadly situation stays with them.
Crows say, researchers, are as intelligent as a seven-year-old child. They say crows use automobile traffic to crack nuts and that they can figure out how to complete a complicated series of events in order to solve a puzzle.
They understand analogies, can exercise self-control, strategize for food and safety, fashion tools, and love to play with one another.
Biologists say crows study humans and can recognize them, one from another.
(Within seconds of posting this story, a reader messaged me urgently to warn me that the crow had come to me to warn me of the coronavirus, she might be cautioning me to expect sickness or worse.)
I don’t believe this is what my crow is telling. And I’m allergic by now to social media warnings.
I think my crow is here to tell me just the opposite, that this too shall pass, and I will take care of myself and survive it. The half-empty cup, yes?
There is a lot of magic in the stories of crows and ravens, they are believed to be among the smartest of wildlife.
They are said to recognize humans, to never forget injury or threats, and have for thousands of years been considered an omen of bad tidings.
In some cultures – my culture, they are seen as a message from the divine, messengers from the Gods. Maria hammered my crow into the window of my study, I’d rather have it inside than outside.
In Celtic mythology, the warrior goddess known as the Morrighan often appears in the form of a crow or is accompanied by a flock of them. They are seen as a sign that Morrigahan is watching, or coming. In Native American folklore, the intelligence of crows is usually portrayed as their most important feature.
I’m excited to have a crow for a muse. I love seeing her in the window. For some reason, I think of my crow as she. She’s already helping me out.
I do love crows. Sometimes a young one will be out back, learning to fly and the others all sit around watching,!from trees. If you step near it you’ll hear a scolding that will make your ears ring. The new crows run through their vocabularies and you’ll hear gurgles, croaks, cackling and many other sounds. One year we had a baby crow out back. I heard a big rucas and when I went out back, there was he baby crow and one of our cats, sitting side by side. Like two best friends. I was afraid something would happen to the crow, so I brought him in and had him in our screened in porch.’ Then I checked with Cornell University and their crow guy said put it high in a bush and keep your cats in. So I did. The next day that same crow would sit on a branch a foot from me and stare. I know it liked me and I didn’t want it to imprint me and think I was it’s mom, for it’s own survival. So I didn’t encourage it. Young crows have blue eyes and yellow beaks. Cutest thing I ever saw. I so love crows.
I can’t imagine anything nicer than a crow to watch over one, or two as the case may be. I live in a small town on the Olympic Peninsula and rent a house in the middle of the town. Still, there is a deer trail through my backyard and this morning I saw a raccoon with a stumpy tail lumping along the trail. Crows, Jays, Juncos, Towhees, Anna’s Hummingbirds, Finches, Chicadees and others spend time at the suet and the hummingbird feeders. Nature is there if you look for it.
Roger lived crows, and so do I. E very Sunday, when Roger made pancakes, he would always make several extra ones for the crowd. We had a crow couple that frequented our backyard, but only on Sundays. They came for the pancakes and would wait for Roger to set them out for them. He bamed them, of course: Sheryl and Russell. It was always comforting to see them when they visited each Sunday.
They are quite the characters. I wish I could understand their language to one another. To me they always sound like they are pissed off. I’m amused because that’s usually how I sound too,l
Thanks Jon. I love ’em too.
Crows Don’t Worry
Just south of our house
toward the mid-day sun
a pair of crows are caught building
their annual nest in a tall white pine
At the same time our human world
is blown by the wind, turned topsy-turvy
by a pandemic virus
and all sorts of fretting, worry and chaos
We relax at home pondering our isolation
while the crows pick and choose from nearby trees
for the “just right” twig or branch
to build their stick nest and raise their young
Like so many generations have before them
crows are largely oblivious of us humans
as we scramble helter skelter
around our diminished world.