FEEDING THE CROWS

 I was having a little talk with the Father.

“I thought I put it all in the Bible,” He said.

“You did Father—it’s all there—and the Holy Ghost has been provided too, to make sure each and every individual understands and applies and benefits in tailor-made ways…if they will avail themselves of the Bible. But that’s just it, God. Most do not. But you know that. You see that. You knew that even before you created us, that most of us wouldn’t bother to read and benefit from all you give to us in Your Word. It’s a “Come and Get it!” but you know most of us critters out here won’t. Even if it’s good.”

 

FEEDING THE CROWS

A person sets out feed for crows every day. He loves those crows. He has seen the glossy black of their feathers, and although a great many people write off these birds as “bad omen”; he doesn’t.

He has watched them from afar, from his woodland cottage window. He has seen them interact, has seen the wings flapping in the glinting sunlight and then watched them soar—oh, these are probably ravens. They fly this way. Flap and soar, flap and soar, the person has seen.

And he has seen them even jealously guard their young and each other. Woe be the human who threatens the well-being of even one fowl! He doesn’t realize it, but he is taking on the entire flock. This person has sat back and smiled, watched to see the black birds take care of each other against outsiders.

But he did not want to be considered one of those outsiders. Day after day, he watched what those birds needed and wanted, carefully observed what they did not like and what offended them. He even listened closely to their cries and tried to decipher their noises to be able to communicate with them.

And then, every day, at a set time, he would set out food he knew they could eat. And would call them.

But these are very “intelligent” beings, these feathered friends. They looked at the morsel—but would not simply swoop down and accept them—were leery, suspicious. The person, after a long time of waiting,--and crows get uncomfortable with people looking directly at them, so often he would toss out their food then back away and act as if he didn’t care, resume—seem to, anyway—some other activity. One raven out of the entire flock dared pick up a morsel of food in his beak and take it back to his branch to examine.

The person smiled ever so slightly.

Soon that crow began eating the scraps the person put out every day, while the other birds watched on, cautiously.

What did that human being want from them? Was he dangerous? Whenever they saw his figure in the open frame of his doorway, they tensed up, ready to take off to the sky in case he would level a shotgun at them or something. But no, each time it had been to call out with caws they recognized and then to toss out bits of nuts and…usually, they never saw what else he gave out because that one crow swooped down quickly to snatch it up.

That crow seemed to have no qualms; if that human were to pull out a gun, that bird, no doubt, would get shot. If he poisoned the food, that crow, no doubt, would die. But that worry didn’t seem to bother the crow.

Instead, the luster of his black feathers seemed to be getting brighter. The grasp of his claws on branches seemed firmer, yet his wings in flight seemed more powerful. Crows do not smile. But this raven seemed to have a glow towards that person in the cabin that almost looked like a smile whenever he would see him at the window or in the yard.

And of course, when the person came out in the door with his usual caw-caws, the crow raced to the sound and was swooping down on the ground practically the instant the food had been thrown on it. Although he wondered why his friends wouldn’t join him too—in a sense, he was glad because this meant he could have that much more all to himself.

 *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   

When the day came for that person to move back to the city, it was noised abroad that he was not returning to high risers, freeways, and traffic lights; he was actually a wealthy property owner with his own little “mountain hideaway” there, and from its windows he was known to view the birds in the branches nearby.

The birds in the man’s private forest? They had all been like the crow at the beginning of the story who had eyed the morsel of food suspiciously—at first. But they had all been won over in time and had left their woodland homes to follow this man—after all, their vision was clearer; their health stronger; their feathers shining; he mended their wounds whenever there was need; there was guarantee of protection from predators…There had been too many reasons to stay with him.

There was a big difference between this private “hideaway” and what the man had done in the woodland cottage. Story had it here he would never toss out morsels of food from the window. Instead, when the shutters flew open, he would give his usual welcoming caw-caw, but then the unbelievable happened: the birds would fly into the window.

This was unheard of, that a bird would fly into a human abode. Apparently, the man had built a crow-perch-railing-roost for his feathered friends just inside the window ledge so they would be “in the house” technically, yet it was an area reserved for the birds; of course, if they felt uncomfortable even there among other crows, the man would let them go back to their trees in the mountain.

Not only was he no longer the outsider he had not wanted to be—the birds had welcomed him into their hearts—they knew he had welcomed them into his life, too.

When the crow heard about this, he was almost beside himself with happiness. “There are other birds like me?! I thought I was the only one to trust this person, and all the other crows looked at me, like I was really strange…but there are others?! Oh, I want to meet them! I too would gladly leave this woodland to see this person’s forest home as well as my shining feathered friends!”

But when the crow flew to the cottage, there was a note pinned to the front door. It read:

 

“My Dear Crow Friend,

I had to go back on an errand for my Father. But I have not forgotten about you. Maybe you already heard about this place? I will be coming back to this woodland sometime, and I want to take you back with me then, so this time I want to get it ready for you. Please don’t forget about me until then.

Sincerely, Your Friend”

 

He is coming back! He is coming back! And he is taking me with him then!

The crow was terribly sad his friend was gone, but just as glad he was coming back.

The other ravens, seeing the crow dancing in circles looked at each other, knowing for sure the crow must’ve lost his mind.

Were ravens really as intelligent as they claim, they would’ve noticed a long time ago, when the crow started getting a steady diet of this person’s food, his feathers took on a gloss they all envied. And they should’ve noticed now he could balance on a twig with just one foot while managing a heavy pull with the other—he was getting amazingly strong. And observant ravens would’ve seen that the fastest bird in the flock was now lagging behind that crow in the air.

Couldn’t they see it might have something to do with the caw-caw stuff from the cabin window? Why wouldn’t they eat it for themselves?

END