Someone this morning shared how the presence of a crow, who stayed on a yard fence for a week, after the death of her mother, gave her comfort, feeling the presence of her mother through the presence of the crow. Two days ago I was walking companion Border Collie Mandy, and as we came to the the intersection of two neighbor streets, behind our home, a crow silently swooped down from a tree to my right, and dipped down over our heads, over the top of my head, possibly six feet above it. It then arched back up a little higher and landed on another tree, on a limb close to Mandy and me. It sat there in silence. This corner was the corner of a house in which a neighbor had passed over in the last couple months.
It was a strange "passing over" my head of the crow, as it was high enough not to feel the wind from its wings yet I believe I had felt the "energy" of its wings brush and fluff the space above the top of my head.
As Mandy and I rounded the corner of this tree and the neighbor's yard, a second crow came flying over my right shoulder and our heads and silently landed in the same tree. As I looked above, still walking, a third crow silently flew over head and landed in that tree. All three silent!
I stopped; we stopped, and watched them a while. Their silence was penetrating, as also feeling wide in the shared space of the corner of the yard and the "t" intersection of those two country lanes. I saw a fourth crow on the ground in a yard across the street on which we now stood, quietly, pecking the earth, feeding itself, seeking hidden morels in the grass.
The three crows in the tree moved sparingly, appearing to enjoy our company, as we we enjoyed their presence. Not much was needed to be said.
Eventually I thought I should say something before we went our way, as they also appeared to be listening or maybe just expecting something. You just get those feelings at times – as I now hear a crow outside my window cawing, possibly, probably, verifying this observation and comment as I write.
So, I told the crows things such as: how good it was to have their company; maybe I told them, how good they were looking with their black sheen; and thanking them for coming and visiting us, and spending quiet time with us at that time and place. Almost as if thanking them, now that I think about it, for being "guardians" of this space, watching over it.
They "protect" the silence - but also like to hear the human voice, sparingly as I have learned - only speaking themselves, cawing - at the right time and place.
It was a strange "passing over" my head of the crow, as it was high enough not to feel the wind from its wings yet I believe I had felt the "energy" of its wings brush and fluff the space above the top of my head.
As Mandy and I rounded the corner of this tree and the neighbor's yard, a second crow came flying over my right shoulder and our heads and silently landed in the same tree. As I looked above, still walking, a third crow silently flew over head and landed in that tree. All three silent!
I stopped; we stopped, and watched them a while. Their silence was penetrating, as also feeling wide in the shared space of the corner of the yard and the "t" intersection of those two country lanes. I saw a fourth crow on the ground in a yard across the street on which we now stood, quietly, pecking the earth, feeding itself, seeking hidden morels in the grass.
The three crows in the tree moved sparingly, appearing to enjoy our company, as we we enjoyed their presence. Not much was needed to be said.
Eventually I thought I should say something before we went our way, as they also appeared to be listening or maybe just expecting something. You just get those feelings at times – as I now hear a crow outside my window cawing, possibly, probably, verifying this observation and comment as I write.
So, I told the crows things such as: how good it was to have their company; maybe I told them, how good they were looking with their black sheen; and thanking them for coming and visiting us, and spending quiet time with us at that time and place. Almost as if thanking them, now that I think about it, for being "guardians" of this space, watching over it.
They "protect" the silence - but also like to hear the human voice, sparingly as I have learned - only speaking themselves, cawing - at the right time and place.
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