A Murder of Crows -- Guest Blog Post by Amy McLain

I stayed up late last night, waiting to see if anything was happening with the protests. I feel like I have to be so careful about what I say. But how can you be careful about what you say, when you don’t know what is right and what is wrong? When you are trying so hard to say and do the right things, but it is frequently wrong, and you don’t know why.

I was sitting outside this morning drinking my coffee, and watching the birds.

The tension in the air is palatable. Even though I am about an hour away from the closest city. I wondered about the recommendation to wear masks and all the facial recognition technology. How strange it is to go into public places and not be able to look at someone’s face. That alone is a stressor, then add to that the concern of being able to buy food and other supplies. Now the completely justified protests of police brutality and add riots, violence, fear, even more uncertainty. It’s so unnerving.

I read where people thought that nature was taking a collective sigh of relief to the global lockdown. At the moment I think and feel like nature is reflecting this tension. While I was sitting outside having my coffee this morning, it seemed quieter. The birds were nearly silent, the calls I did hear, were not as joyful, not as exuberant as usual. 

A murder of crows had flown over the roof, the creek, the little stand of trees that is home to so many smaller birds. The crows started over the field , then made a sharp right turn. Within a minute or two they had come back and landed in the upper limbs of my little stand of trees, squawking and making a fuss and trying to take over the place. Were they going after eggs or the young of the many bird that call this trees home? The energy exuded from them was like a bunch of bullies trying to take over something that is not theirs.

Unlike so many of us humans, nature is pure awareness. The birds, the turtles, rabbits, deer, coyote, they are all aware of each other, and most especially aware of us humans. Within seconds of the crows coming to scavenge the trees, a brave little mockingbird arrived and and started sounding the alarm. Even the dumb human that I am could tell it was a warning and a threat. Not only a, “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here!” to the crows, but also, “Everyone come! We are being attacked!” No fear. Not from the mockingbird, who braved coming onto my porch while I was on it to feed its child that accidentally ended up there but couldn’t figure out how to leave. The bright red cardinal came within a few seconds and sounded his warning. Multitudes of finches came to defend their homes. No fear, even though they are tiny compared to the crows. Quickly, the crows were driven away and the stand of trees is safe again, for the moment.

All of this took a minute or two. Maybe it’s my imagination, but there does seem to be a tension unlike anything I have felt before.

I realized while writing this how symbolic this little story is. Who do you think the crows represent? For me it is the police and government, coming to take over and control where no authority or control is needed. In far too many cases they manipulate and cause chaos, where previously things were peaceful. All the small birds work together to keep the peace where when necessary and otherwise go about the business of collecting food, building or finding shelter, raising their young. 

There are some people that are never going to change. There are extremists on the right and the left. There is the government that is incorrigible and their civil army, otherwise known as the police. These are the crows. Let us be the little birds.