Spring is making every effort to stay and I’m glad to see it. With it come the brave, wild flowers. And I enjoy the color they provide before the county comes around with their mowers.
It was April when my wife had just returned home from a month-long-stay in the hospital. I always remained within earshot. And while doing so I spotted a dragon fly perched on a limb about shirt-pocket level. His large eyes are what caught my attention. After I’d studied him for a short time he took flight, circled me and then returned to his post. That’s when it occurred to me that he was not out for some fresh air. He was on guard duty. Somewhere in that thicket something involving his species was occurring and his job was to keep predators at bay. He was a brave little creature. I could have crushed him.
A couple of decades ago I was at home writing while Barb was working. She was a nurse. A new hatch of crows were in the timber behind where we lived and they sounded like a herd of tree frogs as they found their crow voices. Then everything went silent. I paused to listen and when they didn’t resume their “chatter” I slipped outside to see what had happened.
The timber came out to a point near an old pond and as I scanned the area for anything unusual I noticed a lone crow, an aged crow, perhaps the alpha crow, perched on a limb facing the road. Slowly, I changed locations in order to see what he was watching. There, on the power line sat a hawk. It was a stand off.
Minutes passed. Perhaps two or maybe three. Then as the hawk emitted a high-pitched screech he vaulted from his perch and headed north.
The crow maintained his station for a longer period, Then he flew off the limb, made a one-eighty and headed back into the forest.
An instant later the youngsters resumed their practice at becoming crows.
Hilary, when she was still First Lady, stated that it takes a village to raise a child.
Perhaps it takes a village to raise a crow as well.