In my poetry book Just Down the Road, I have these lines in a poem about an old friend and crows:
“Sweet pea, them crows sure are talking this morning. Sleek, black feather-backs catching the sun. Sharing words spoken in croaks and whistles…”
In my part of the woods, there’s a group of four crows who put in regular appearances. I enjoy watching and listening as they speak back and forth. I consider them friends while at the same time feeling a bit wary - I know their presence means something and that I need to pay attention and respect. (I had the same feeling when I was a kid reading Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven.) Overall though, I believe they care and return my respect for them.
As much as crows can catch us off-guard when we realize they’re watching us, they remain as fascinating as they are mysterious. Crows are exceptionally smart. They make tools, play games, and remember faces (so be kind to them :-) The Zuni note Crow as the keeper of sacred law. Crows have the power to talk. The four who frequent my part of the world, definitely carry on conversations. (Politely, unless they are chasing off a hawk, then they all chime in at once.) Apparently, in captivity, they can learn to talk better than parrots. They also mimic all sorts of other sounds, mourn the passing of other crows, and make gestures with their beaks (as in pointing to something).
My suggestion for us as writers and artists is to pay attention to who speaks power to your life. Who do you listen to, what spoken words inspire you, or anger you, or soothe you? Learn to use the emotions around what you hear to bring that power to your words and art. Begin to listen to those who speak to you from the natural world. Remember that you can converse and learn from them, at times, perhaps more so than from the people in your life.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
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