Sunday, August 19, 2007

What the Crow Saw


Monday August 13, 2007: (Broadoak, Dorset)

This morning I had company. My companion and I settled ourselves down on the tarp and I caste a circle and called the directions.

My pectoral muscles felt so strong. I felt them rippling across my chest as I spread my great black wings and took off from the ground. I soared high into the sky, looking down upon the field, the trees and the place where we had all camped. It was empty. Only the long grass danced in the brisk little breeze.

I alighted on the hedge and began to study it. A myriad of different greens interwove to make a thicket of a wall between me and the outside world. Hawthorn, beech, oak and rowan laced together with ivy, nettles and brambles, rioted up and out towards the sun. Everything was so green and alive!

My eye was caught by a curiously shaped tree and I flew across to it. Its trunk twisted gracefully, spiralling gently like a great serpent growing into the hedge. I landed on the ground before it and feasted my eyes on the intricacies of its growth, studying how it related to the hedgerow in which it grew so that I would remember it, because the tree felt special.

But there were other things to examine and I flew off to another part of the hedgerow. Here, a spider had woven her web, there, a little white feather was caught in a clump of brambles. Every little thing I saw was beautiful and I cawed with satisfaction at seeing it before me.

Sitting on the tarp in the middle of the field, I heard a crow caw. Into the space left behind it, a robin trilled joyfully. I turned my face to the direction of his song and blew him a kiss. “Hay Sam”, I called, remembering the Robin’s boy who would never camp in a damp English field again. All hail the birds of the skies, whether cheerful robin or curious and gruff crow, I thought as I opened the circle. Life is good!

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