Tag Archives: crows

For Whom the Crow Flies

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Recently, I shared dad’s Pessimistic Optimism in the first issue of Bits of Bill and today, it’s all about birds; a particular crow to be more exact.  Could it be possible that these creatures know instinctively how to live in a way that could benefit us, if we learned from their flight path?  Read on to find out.

A number of yeas ago, my wife and I were adopted by a crow with a gimpy leg.  He arrived one day, took up a perch atop the big alder in our back yard, and refused to move on.  During the day, he would disappear occasionally; but, because he was there morning and evening, it appeared that he felt the tree was his.  This became obvious, later, when we heard the nestlings.

Now, I’m quite sure that the bird was perfectly capable of fending for him or herself; but, because of the limp, we began buying him generic bread and bulk peanuts.  The final assignment of gender was based solely on the bird’s arrogant attitude.

In a week or two, I suppose as a way of showing his appreciation, we were introduced to his three offspring.

We named them, The Twins, and Joe; the latter being the runt; and our enjoyment, in observing their march to adulthood, was well worth the extra loaf of bread and an additional bag of peanuts a week.

As the passage of time brought the youngsters closer to adulthood, the family became less and less individualistic.  Papa was the exception, because his leg, neither retracting nor extending properly, marked him, even in flight.

One morning, as the bird, I thought to be Joe, finished its snack, it squawked a few times, caught the freshening breeze, and lifted effortlessly into the morning sky.

Watching, I was chagrined by the superiority of this lesser of God’s creations; and by the ease with which it had adapted.  I was humbled by the knowledge that, although it might take a life, it would never do so in anger.  It would accept, with no need to know why, the size, shape and color of all God’s creatures.  When it became time, it would give of itself, whatever was necessary, to rear its offspring; and, barring the intervention of humankind, this bird, and its kind, would continue to live in the manner God set forth when creating them.

Papa spent several years with us, and with each season brought a new family into our lives.  That we gained a great deal from the experience was obvious.  In the editing and rewriting of this piece, however, I was beset by the niggling feeling that much of what was offered had been overlooked… or ignored.

An examination of that uneasiness revealed that there is good reason to question the manner in which humans, particularly the Christian variety, think and speak of themselves.  Granted, we are forgiven, but have we, by faith and adherence to God’s laws, maintained our assigned position above the crows; or, like them, do we flit about with little purpose, making a great deal of noise, while giving no thought to what lies beyond today’s allotment of bread and peanuts?

As the Crow Flies

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Sometimes, people need to stop and refresh!  When life is throwing a wrench at us, removing ourselves from the issue at hand can give us the clarity we need to finish what we were dealing with.  In this, my first ‘How-To’s‘ post, an excerpt from Dad’s short story, “The Crows are Quacking”,  tells the story of Just such a thing happening to my parents when I was five years old.

It was 1955; our new house was in one of the first tracts to sprout among the orange groves surrounding a lovely little town nestled close to the San Gabriel mountains; some thirty miles east of Los Angeles.

Our moving day had been hectic.  I was able to get a truck, but none of the promised help had materialized; it was late and we were very tired.  I was trying, with little success, to connect the kitchen range, when Barb burst into the room.

“What’s that noise?”

“Me, cussin’!”

“No, it’s outside.  Listen!”

I stopped mumbling; then it was my turn:  “What is it?”

I scrambled to my feet, and we both hurried outside.

“It’s coming from the east,” Barb said, pointing.

It is probably safe to say that most of us have heard the call of a crow.  If not in person, on radio or TV, but until you’ve heard several hundred of them returning to their rookeries, you ain’t heard nothin’!

Because the sound had preceded the birds by a considerable distance, we were forced to wait for some time before catching a glimpse of its source.  I don’t recall there being any apprehension, but anticipation and curiosity were at a peak.

Finally, the first of the flocks came into view. They moved in a general direction, but there seemed to be great confusion with regard to their eventual destination.  Although the din seemed to be the result of differing points of view concerning that objective, it soon became evident that they knew exactly where they were going, and everything else was just fun and games.  We watched, totally enthralled, as they came in seemingly endless waves.  Circling above the groves, they dove, landed and flew again to repeat the process, many times.

Suddenly, I remembered what I’d been doing and glanced at my watch.

“Sheesh!  I’ve wasted fifteen minutes watching those crazy birds.”

Rushing back into the kitchen, I grabbed my wrench and wiggled in behind the stove.  Surprisingly, what had appeared hopeless before, seemed less so now.  A brief examination revealed a place where I could fudge a little; and, in a few minutes, the pilot was lit, and staying on!

Those crazy birds!

Obviously, the interruption was unintended but never the less, highly helpful and effective.  Maybe, following this event, mom and dad listened for avian packs approaching when things they were working on weren’t going so smoothly.  What about you?  When you’re tired and trying, with little success, to address life head on, what have you used to remove yourself from the moment so you can return with a new outlook?