i have a heart for crows.

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a Crow died and also lived here

likely dying during or before the brief, but deep snowdrifts of january 2024

and definitely not by predation; Crows are simply too smart for the local feral cat bird-killers (the only worthwhile information that author Jonathan Franzen ever imparted to me) — and work in groups to warn and defend against hawks and owls;

their body apparently uneaten and unscavenged, decomposing but intact —
and mostly embedded and compressed in deep grasses beneath the sumac patch growing out from the aged, concrete footprint of a former barn; at first, i only spotted a few long dark feathers, then by worried curiosity — their dear body /

death by old age is my hope for that Crow, and all Crows — and for some people too, but not for me/ i have seen human old age and death, and want no part of that //

for a moment, i contemplate that something i’ve set out for them might’ve sickened or choked them and hold my breath / i dismiss that as i gently investigate their remains, and realize that the other Crows are still visiting with the same trust, daily, and feeding regularly

and also, still replying and responding to my broken language of caws; they are so very tolerant of me;

the place of death, location of the body and cause of death still feels unusual — i will never know what actually happened ///

i always want to be in ‘right relationship’
with this resident family of dignified, generous and deeply loyal beings,

so, i honored their departed
with gifts from the in-house plants – with their permission,
and with a gorgeous ear of corn
planted, harvested and saved by me

you never know whom you may one day meet and grow to love, admire and respect even in post mid-life out here in ruralia ////

i have grown such a heart for Crows.

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