A Keeper of The Sacred Law, a crow sees what many do not, and irreverently squawks about it.
"The seeing-eye, the beating wing, the bird that laughs at everything. Misunderstood by everyone, who can not see all things as one".
Saturday, March 7, 2009
My Washing Up Bowl.
So now I had a new life. In a new home. But mostly, for now, home was my Washing Up Bowl.
It was the right size for me: much bigger than a normal crow's nest. And more comfortable.
Enough space for a baby crow to feel successful.
In the bottom, there was a piece of soft foam.
Then crinkled up newspaper.
Then sheets of kitchen roll.
Then soft tissue paper.
Then on top: a Bird.
In addition, there was a stick taped to the bowl, so I could imagine I was in a tree.
I often sat on the stick, imagining I was in a tree, until I fell off, and landed on the soft bed beneath the stick. It was a safe place. That's why I liked it so much. I didn't know, yet, that apart from the two humans, that something else lived in the house.
If I had known, I might have worried.
But what a Crow does not know, does not worry a Crow.