While, it is lovely to have particular crow friends and to have eye to eye contact, they also communicate with you from afar. You simply have to tune into the crow wavelength.
It’s not always possible to have close encounters of the corvid kind.
You might live in place where peanut diplomacy is strictly forbidden, or maybe you’re in a rural area where crows tend to be a lot less trusting of humans than they are in the city. You may be away from your familiar crows in a new town.
But that’s OK — because their very presence, however distant, makes a difference. You just have to start start looking for the shapes they make against the sky.
Once you start noticing them they become like elegant punctuation, making sense of a garbled, run-on sentence of a world.
Crow signals can also guide you through the seasons.
In winter you’ll see couples snuggling close and building their bond in advance of the challenging nesting season to come.
You might also see some scenes like this as competition for the best nesting sites heats up . . .
Followed shortly by my favourite crow messages of hope and endeavour . . .
Later in the spring or summer, look for scenes like the one below.
(Will be accompanied by a raucous soundtrack of quarking begging cries from baby crows.)
The parent crows are grateful for a few brief moments of peace in the summertime.
By early autumn the baby crows are independent, and the post-summer socializing and harvest festival begins.
And then — here we go again — the leaves are gone and we see the crow couples settling back into their quiet winter routine.
Some miscellaneous messages from crows:
A sidelong glance at distant crow’s antics can make you laugh aloud.
Sometimes they can tell quite a long story in a fleeting moment.
The faraway and anonymous crow that inspired this whole post is in the photo below.
This bird performed a whole poem for anyone who happened to be looking up.
Flying very high, she suddenly dropped ten feet in a smooth barrel roll. For a moment I thought something was wrong, but she repeated her trick and I noticed she was dropping something from her beak and catching it over and over.
At last, she caught it for the last time and flew off to enjoy her prize.
The poem, as I interpreted it, covered subjects of exhilaration, skill, freedom, speed, risk, rushing air and pure fun.
The joy, on a hard day in a hard year, was contagious.
Crow therapy from afar. Keep an eye open for the signs!
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