My grandmother and the crows
My grandma religiously fed the crows in her front yard. I found this endearing and curious as a child, but mostly took it for granted, as I schlepped the leftovers from our latest meal into the metal tray and carried it out for the hungry corvids. I wish now, that I had asked her more about what compelled her to do that.
When I was barely a year old, my parents were preparing to move and I stayed with my grandparents for an entire month. I was told many times as a child, that when my mom returned to gather me back, I took one look at her, turned on my barely walking legs and wobbled right back to my grandmother. She was always that kind of presence for me.
Lately, I find myself thinking of my grandmother a lot. Maybe it’s partly due to the murder of crows (as humans decided to name a group of them) that has taken up residence near my front yard this summer. I wonder what she might say if she were here right now. My grandmother saw such dramatic unfolding in her lifetime, but the constant change seems to have only accelerated exponentially in the several decades since she died.
Crows have existed for about 17 million years, first appearing during the Miocene period. Early humans, with capabilities bearing similarities to ours, have been bipedaling around for about 60,000 years. Some humans have known for a long time, and some are verifying again through current scientific research, that crows are incredibly intelligent. I wonder how we got to a place where such information almost seems like a cute novelty rather than a reminder of how deeply embedded we all are in an unfolding relationship with each other and the cosmos.
Crows likely hold much wisdom that we don’t; that’s just the power of millions of years of existing as a species on any given planet. I like to imagine those magnificent birds up there with little smartphones and computers, entering data about the humans. “Hmmm,” one types to another, “in the last 150 years, they have set in motion the extinction of countless species and radically altered the climate in ways that may be irreversible, yet they are still barrelling forward.” I imagine the crow's data being amassed as they ask themselves, “Can a species that is destroying its own home, even if they are incredibly good at engineering all kinds of new stuff, be considered intelligent?”
My Grandma had an essence that reminds me of the crows who are visiting me this summer. She was vivacious, larger than life, wildly playful, deeply committed to her faith, and loyal in her care of others. She was frugal, careful with her expenditures, but also seemed to live in abundance. For me, she was a source of unconditional love, wise offerings, an example of how to live a good, compassionate, and simple life.
If I were a crow back then I would have wanted to build a nest next to her house, not only for the constant offerings; but just to be near such a human. That, of course, assumes that crows are capable of distinguishing a benevolent human from an unkind person, which research confirms they are. Crows can even teach younger generations to avoid a human that those younger crows have never seen. It’s funny how in our modern rationalist tendencies we often don’t believe something unless it is relentlessly empirically verified. I am quite sure my grandmother and humans way before us, who were simply paying attention, already knew this.
Crow researchers have documented extensively, crows’ love of shiny objects. They have even been known to leave these sorts of treasures as gifts for humans that feed them. When my grandmother died, and my mom and aunt were sorting through her belongings, they found a ring. No one knows where she got it or why she had it, but it’s the most beautiful, asymmetrical interweaving of textures and varying colors of silver. They gave it to me and I have worn it, like a prayer, every day since.
I don’t think we will ever know the story of this ring and how it came to be. I like to imagine my grandmother, walking outside one quiet morning with a tin plate full of leftovers and calling to her winged friends. As she bends down slowly, because her back has carried so much in her lifetime, she sees a glinting in the grass and reaches toward it. When she gently retrieves this intricate treasure, with some confusion but also some deep knowing, the crow, in deep gratitude, watches her from the tree.
