I always thought I was more of a hawk sort of person, or even better, owl. Maybe even the death raven, that matron of the battlefield. However, no, it appears that I have garnered the attention of crows. It started in the early fall, when more animals were moving around, more birds still talking, and even hawks hunting. They all chatter away when I’m walking from car to my work entrance. They’re having a whole conversation up there. I didn’t pay much attention. Our sky is very busy here. Near on to Samhain and I noticed that the loudest voices were the plaintive, somewhat mocking voices of crows. Not sophisticated, kinda gossipy, crows. I looked up and said hello to them. (I’m pretty sure the lady passing by thought I’m just not quite right.) I guess they decided to be my new friends. They’re everywhere I go now. They told their friends to be my friends too. Kinda like facebook but for birds. I came out from work and one of my new buddies was sitting on my car, just eyeballing me. This photo isn’t him but it reminded me of him. So what can I learn from this stark scavenger? They have a lot to say. I had forgotten about them for a week or two in the rush of things to do and the preoccupation of my sliding mood and distracted thoughts surrendering to winter. This morning, one of them got right up on the roof by my work entrance and issued a very loud and pointed “caw caw caw caw” right at me. He’s got things to say, and in the deep bowl of this great big night we call “winter,” I will try to listen. He’s wry, and he scavenges what he can to survive. He’s a social bird, and gathers up with his buddies if he has to defend his turf. He isn’t delicate. Doesn’t seem too apologetic about it either. So while I would rather have something glamorous and mysterious like an owl friend, I guess the winter crone has sent me one of her messengers. I think it’s a message about death, and forsaking. It’s also a message about survival and using my voice.