Lisa Thorpe

Ode to Crow

I came upon a dead crow the other day while walking my dog. At the scene there were no feathers strewn about no sign of a struggle so maybe it was just this crow’s time. I kept thinking about that crow and its kind, about crow life and community, crow work and pleasure. Where I live crows have found a niche, they forage and hunt, they crack walnuts and acorns by dropping them on the road from high up in trees- I’ve seen this myself- clever critters. They heckle and pester the birds of prey like the hawk and owl that live in the trees near by. At dusk they seem to gather together in community in a big oak tree between us and the dairy next door, later they fly off to roost for the night somewhere else, our oak tree seems more like stopping by the pub after work to chat with friends. I don’t really know much about a crows life but I do know that anytime I’m asked what superpower I’d want if I had one I always say flight – and whenever I ponder a next life, if there is a next life to be had, I think please let me be a bird. And not a humming bird (too busy) not a woodpecker (hard headed) I don’t think eagle or even hawk is in my future (too noble) –  although the crow is much maligned, I think a crow would suit me fine- clever and social, a little bit pesky, but interesting and a fine flyer defiantly a fine flyer. So if the universe is listening I wouldn’t mind seeing for myself how to get there as the crow flies!