THERE ARE CROWS everywhere around our mountain home. I like to hear them cackling and cawing when I’m walking through the bush, and they can get quite resentful if the dog’s bounding through the trees disturbs them in their foraging. Crows are good companions on a hike. Their sound is ancient, and they lend a mystic feel to your time out on the land. They’ve been here a long time, and the example they offer us of a steward relationship to the earth is tremendous.
Crows are a planetary mainstay. I depend on their voices when I’m in the back country. Even when new snow densely coats the trees, and seeing anything is difficult, the crows can be heard nattering back and forth. I’ve always liked them.
In the Long Ago Time, when Creator sent Human Beings to inhabit the earth, she gave gifts to all the flyers of the world. The Eagle was chosen as the people’s messenger, to carry their prayers and thanks to Creator. The Loon was made the teacher of love and good relationships, the Owl the possessor of patience and observation. The Chickadees exemplified persistence and harmony. But Crow felt he’d been given nothing.
He didn’t have colourful feathers. He didn’t have a beautiful song. He wasn’t known for his strength or vision. None of the Animal People looked to him for special help or insight. Crow wondered what his role was in the circle of being. Every other creature seemed to have one. So he began to fly about looking for purpose. He flew far and wide, searching the world for one teaching that might become his own to carry.
Crow visited with Mukwa, the Bear, and asked for some of Mukwa’s teachings. But Crow was impatient, and when none of Mukwa’s gifts seemed to fit, he flew off again. For a time, he lived with Moozo, the Moose, and with Pizheu, the Lynx. He flew into the depths of the great northern woods to sit with Wolverine. One by one, he visited Wolf, Coyote, Beaver, Loon, Fish, Turtle and even the great Eagle himself.
Crow learned a lot on his travels, but he couldn’t find anything that felt like his very own. The humility and devotion of his fellow creatures made him hungrier than ever for some special teaching he could offer. Then, one day, as he flew by a hollow tree, he noticed Squirrel looking sadly out from a hole in the trunk.
Crow landed and gently coaxed Squirrel to talk. Lightning had struck the tree that had held her nest, and she had lost her babies, she told him. Crow nodded with understanding. Then he took Squirrel to see the Bear and the Turtle to receive their medicine.
After that, as he flew about, Crow encountered other creatures in need. Each time, he stopped, listened to their stories and then took them to the animal whose medicine was right for them. He became a respected listener and guide.
Crow was never graced with a gorgeous coat of feathers for his troubles. He was never endowed with a beautiful song. His grating call perturbed the Human Beings, but the Animal People always felt more secure when they heard Crow croaking in the forest. Crow’s gift, and his purpose, became the ability to communicate and to carry teachings and other medicines to help people.
When I heard the story of Crow, I thought it was simply a wonderful folk tale. I was young and in a hurry then, dazzled by bright and shiny things. Reflection was just what I saw in the mirror every morning. But the power of teachings is their ability to simmer beneath the surface. Now that I’ve reached middle age, I understand that Crow’s story is about working with others in the spirit of friendship and service. When we do that, we find our own sense of purpose. You only have to hear a crow cawing to be reminded of that.