I lure them to me
and ask them to give up
their glinting metallic trove–
a precious heirloom in exchange
for a pellet of food.
“They aren’t thieves,”
I tell myself to feel better,
“just finders.”
And this crate is the community lost and found,
inaccessible to anyone but me.
I do not want an olive branch
or any other dove-delivered gift.
All the proof of life I need
is a scrap of wire,
a few coins,
and an irreplaceable diamond ring.
Are crows particularly attracted to shiny things? No, probably not (and many of them avoid shiny things). Can you train crows and other corvids to bring you specific things? No, probably not. But the idea is super cool, and that’s why companies can sell the devices that provide a bird with food for bringing a gift.
Wive’s tales are weird. Humans are weird. And crows with their gifts that humans view as gratitude? Yes, also weird in a wonderful way.
Image The Crow and the Pitcher, The Eagle and the Crow (1908) by Walter Crane (English, 1845 – 1915) found on Artvee
I knew a crow named Plato, he followed my to the bus stop every morning and told me repeatedly “My name is Plato” until I dropped a peanut for him. He trained me well – grin.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Interesting! They are certainly smart birds.
LikeLike
I loves me almost anything that’s as crowy as this, though few things are. Very cool write!
I know they can be gifters, but all they ever bring me up here is the coldest of empty stares.
I thought you might really enjoy the opening stanza of this triptych:
https://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com/search?q=triptych
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for sharing that, Ron!
LikeLike