“Do Crows eat eachother one?” one asked.
“They’ll eat anything!” was the reply.
I walked about five more minutes before I happened upon the Crow they spoke of.
Two of its brethren were along side it squawking. Although after seeing the beautiful young adult crow, it could have easily been its parents.
I decided it must have been hit by a car. Its neck was broken. It was lying in the street, somewhat close to the curb.
I was very moved. It was, to me, a tragedy. And I could not leave this beautiful grown baby in the street.
I enjoy Crows and although I do not know too much about them, but I figured these other two crows could be injured if they stayed in the street to eat this one.
So, I decided to put it somewhere safe and more fitting, honorable if you will.
When I picked it up. I realized just how warm it was. The neck was very broken and other than that nothing but gorgeous iridescent feathers.
The two crows which had been beside it immediately took to the air flying circles over my head and cawed loudly.
So very loud!
I decided to walk to a meadow close to my home. About 8 blocks away. About 10 minutes away.
And it was then that I saw what was going to happen. Everything unfolding but being entirely in my body at the same time.
The most weirdly, beautiful, other worldly, sorrowful experience.
As I walked, the light moved in and out of the trees, the crows cawed louder and louder.
More crows gathered.
I looked up and saw 3, then 5, then all at once too many to count.
People were stopping to see what was causing this very loud cawing of the crows.
The crow all swirling over head, following me as I walked.
Following me as I carried their departed.
This beautiful creature in my hands.
As I got to the meadow, more than thirty crows had gathered. Circling continuously over my head, cawing so very loudly it was deafening.
They were powerful. They were magickal. Potent. A swirling vortex of power and magick.
I placed the bird on a large rock and then walked 3 times around the standing stones.
As I walked, each time around they were more frenzied than the last.
I was fearful I would be attacked and torn to bits.
They were frenzied.
But I saw what would happen before it happened.
I knew what would happen.
When those moments of fear crept through, I envisioned myself cloaked with crow feathers and giving the intent of protection to the young dead or dying crow.
I stopped in front of the rock with the crow and offered words.
Words of sorrow, of loss, of hope, of future happiness.
And with my first word, the frenzied, screaming crows, silenced.
Silence greeted my words for this bird.
And when I left, hushed caws whispered. And they landed to see their friend or son, or daughter.
And I do not think that I will ever be the same.
It turns out Crows and Ravens don’t eat their own.
But they mourn their loss.
I don’t know what else to say or add here.
But this was a real event that occurred in San Jose, Ca May 28, 2013.