The Crow Who Loved Me

Posted byCoffee, Tea, and ReveriePosted inUncategorizedTags:, , , ,

One thing I loved about my apartment was the tiny balcony off of my bedroom and the lush, green tree that shaded it. I soon discovered that dozens (seemed like hundreds) of Indian grey-necked crows lived in that tree. They were beautiful, raven black with a royal silver necklace. They were noisy (There was literally a cawcawphony of crow voices every morning and evening.) and they pooped—a lot. But I didn’t really mind them. Until. They started building nests. On my balcony, in the windows, nests popped up everywhere.

I had had a previous experience with a bird nest in my first apartment in Kolkata (previously named Calcutta) and that story did not end well.  So every time I saw a new nest I tore it down.  And they rebuilt.  And I tore it down again.  Soon I noticed that they were rebuilding with the same materials from the nest I had just demolished; identifiable pieces of wire, twine, and unique twigs were their treasured building tools, intricately woven together into a home for their soon to come young.  As that observation tugged at my heart and as I marveled at their weaving skills I tore them down again.

After two or three weeks of this building and rebuilding I clearly became a crow enemy. “How could I tell?” you might ask. Well it wasn’t hard—dive bombing. Every time I left my apartment and walked out to the street they would dive at me and peck my head as they swooped by. “How do they know it was me?” I would ask myself. Well crows are very intelligent. Some say that corvid intelligence is human-like and compare it to that of a seven-year old. These corvids very well knew that I was the villain.

During the midst of nest building season I left for a couple weeks of travel.  When I returned, on the ledge of the window by my dining table was a nest (and, yes, I recognized the building materials).  As I opened the window Mama Crow flew off her nest revealing six tiny, beautiful blue eggs.  My mama heart melted and my house-wrecking days were over.

Not many days later six little babies emerged, pecking their way out of the blue shells.  They were adorable, straining their necks, mouths wide open calling for food.  And then shortly there were two.  (I’ve been told that it’s normal for only two crows to survive in a nest.)  During that hatching period I kept finding dead baby crows left on my balcony ledge and in my potted outdoor plants.  “Why” I repeatedly asked myself “are the mothers bringing their young to me?  Are they hoping that I can revive them?  Have they forgotten that I am the villain?”  Well of course they haden’t forgotten; remember crows are very intelligent.  To this day I do not know why they brought me their dying young.

Daily I watched as my two little crows grew, and they grew to know me and to trust me. Every time I opened the window they opened their mouths and called for me to feed them. I didn’t, of course, I didn’t want Mama Crow to reject her babies because my scent was on them. One of the babies became shy and would hunker down when I opened the window but the other more and more aggressively called for me to feed him.

Then the day came when they flew the nest.  But the two stayed close.  When I would open the window the shy one would sit and watch from a nearby apartment’s ledge.  The braver one would fly up to my window ledge and caw loudly at me.  Soon a routine was formed.  I got up in the morning and started the coffee grinder.  Brave Crow flew to the kitchen window and called for me.  I talked to him and gave him a cookie.  He carried it over and shared with Shy Crow.  I loved it!  I had a pet crow!

Then I went away for six weeks of language study.  As I was traveling home I was thinking of my crows and was sure that they would have left, assuming that I was gone for good.  I arrived late and exhausted and went straight to bed.  Next morning I woke up late, went to the kitchen, and ground coffee.  Hearing a huge racket at the kitchen window I opened it and there was my crow, dancing.  Yes, he was overwhelmed with joy—dancing, flapping his wings, jumping, singing, calling to me in one of the most beautiful welcome homes I have ever received.  

There is something deeply beautiful about bonding with a wild creature.  You can’t hold it or touch it or scratch its ears.  But there is a connection between you, an affection that is about more than giving and receiving food, a loving of sorts.  There is a feeling of peace, of contentment, of being one with God’s creation.  I sometimes ponder The Beginning when God placed the first man and the first woman in The Garden and gave them dominion over the earth and everything that moved on it.  I can imagine that there was no fear and that the people and the creatures had more than a master/worker, hunter/prey, friend/pest relationship, but that rather they shared friendship.  As I dream of the “world to come” I imagine myself in a beautiful garden living in harmony with all of the wonderful creatures He has made.  More and more often my heart yearns for that day to come.

Have you ever bonded with a wild creature?  I would love to hear the story.  What kind of beauty do you imagine we will live in one day on the redeemed earth?

“In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all. The cow will graze near the bear. The cub and the calf will lie down together. The lion will eat hay like a cow. The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra. Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm. Nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, for as the waters fill the sea, so the earth will be filled with people who know the Lord.” —NLT

Leave a comment