Conversation with a Crow

The view from the moutain oversees the valley stretching out below. A great blue stream running into a sea of green. The path I took was long, my feet have blisters but it was worth this view. The air feels cleared, my lungs feel stronger. Even the clouds here seem pleased to see me. It’s from here I can let my thoughts run wild, with every ragged breath I take, every forced step I make to climb higher and higher, my thoughts become less pained.

There is a bird that has joined me here in my sacred place. A crow without friends or family. I think we could understand eachother so long as he doesn’t fly away from me. Birds are nervous, untrusting creatures. Understandably. Humans are just as nervous and more untrusting. But being larger gives us confidence.

The crow cocks his head sideways to check my advances, calculating inside that pea-sized brain of his. Am I a threat? Or friend? I sit within three feet of the crow on a stone and begin a conversation with it.

“Crow, are you lonely? You are all by yourself. I am lonely, I haven’t seen any of my kind for months.” “I have not seen any of my kind neither, human. Maybe we are the last of our species?” “For all we know we could be, crow.”