A Murder of Crows

Posted on May 17, 2005 in Childhood Creatures

When I was a boy living in San Bernardino, California, a murder of crows flew from the southwest towards the northeast every evening about half an hour before sunset. About a hundred of them pumped their wings and pumped their lungs to caw as they passed. I do not know where they gathered. They ended their flight in a copse of eucalyptus trees about a quarter of a mile away. For the duration of my childhood, they marked the passing of every day and made me feel that I was not in a complete concrete desert. After I left for college, they stopped making their secret rendeavous over the heart of town and did not go to the unnatural forest. There was nothing left for me to love.

This morning I hear the cry of a single crow, come to roost atop a pine tree. Dear friend: are you a descendant of these? Can I call you brother?