“Caw! Caw!”
It’s April, the sound of birds greet the ear, signaling the beginning of spring time. Brash among the more melodic songbirds are the crows, with their harsh and repetitive “Caw Caw!”
Something about their raucous discord and the way it stands out against the trilling sparrow, caroling whistle robin, and the coo of the mourning dove I find strangely appealing. Some would probably think they are ominous. The 1963 Hitchcock film “The Birds” comes to mind. Or think of their corvid cousin, the raven, who Edgar Allen Poe depicted as the one bird that could be annoying enough to drive a man mad. Nevermore!
European folklore depicts crows as ghosts of the damned in Germany, or the feathered corporeal return of murder victims in Sweden. In Celtic tradition, they are linked to the goddess Morrigan and symbolize prophecy and protection.
But in our mundane, every day life, many people think of crows as jerks. Socially deviant in the way that they have a talent for stealing food away from other animals just by annoying them! If a coyote makes a kill, they don’t sit around waiting for scraps. They nip the animal’s tails, poke at them, caw at them, and irritate them until they run away, leaving the carcas for the crows to have at it. They steal eggs from nests, knock over trash cans, and drive everyone crazy.
They are opportunists, and make the most of what they have. The ultimate scavengers, they use their sharp-eyed vision to swipe fabric, string, sticks, even other animal’s fur, all to use to build their nests.
This makes me think of the writing process. How when we are working on a piece of fiction, we scavenge like a crow. Gathering up scraps, when we glean a phrase overheard in a conversation, or jot down our own loose and associative thoughts we are having while waiting at the DMV. Like shopping at the thrift store, putting together an outfit from random bits and pieces. The process involves collecting things for their potential and possibility, then tying them on, and for just a moment, becoming a different person. When you write, you become each character, slipping into them like a hand into a glove. Then, later, the reader gets to have the same experience .
We gather, then cut a little here, cut a little there, and gather some more, and that’s how we build our crow’s nest.
Crows seem to occupy a liminal space in our worlds. Close enough that they are living alongside us, but still wild. Maybe next time you are out and about this spring, have a moment with a crow. They are smarter than you think!
The Fisherman’s Crow
1993
Tony Fitzpatrick
My Terrible Darlings 