This story keeps popping up in my facebook newsfeed: The Girl Who Gets Gifts From Crows. And all I can think is, really, gifts from crows, I don’t buy it. And here is why…
Several years ago I was out for a long run on a beautiful spring evening. I was powering up a long, winding hill, enjoying the sunshine on my back and the fresh spring air. My mind was gloriously empty…no worries about students in my class, relationships, life…just my feet hitting the pavement, my body moving forward. Perfection.
Perfection that was shattered by a sudden flapping of wings. Followed by a sharp peck in the back of my head. “What the…?” Surprised, my head swiveled left and right and left again. There. Just to my left. An angry crow keeping pace with me. Loudly cawing. Ushering me on my way.
As I reached the crest of the hill the crow retreated, back to its fledglings (I assume). But I swear, different crows followed me all the way home. Each one keeping careful watch of my movements. I was on their list. And it was not a gift giving list. The crows were not my friends.
And when I awoke in the morning, and looked out my window, there sat two crows on the telephone wire. They stared straight at me, keeping me in their sights. Watching.