Sunday, 23 May 2010

The Crow

The crow offered me the first bite, generously. Politely I had to refuse. Our friendship was by now so congenial that I choose not to bring up the issue of my vegetarianism. I feared that something so trivial might soon snowball into an insurmountable mountain of mutual dislike. Like it happens often in human friendships. But I should have known better. For it was a crow that I had befriended. Giving me a deep, keen look the bird nodded his head and got back to his snack.

Did he know why I refused his friendly offering? I don’t quite know the answer to that. It never came up. However, there have been no wormy offerings of friendships ever since but many a cheery caw and circling over the head. And even a few striking poses among the blooming gulmohar. Yeah, we are alright. At least for now.

In fact, Mark Twain was onto something when he wrote that the crow “never arrived at what he is by any careless process, or any sudden one; he is a work of art, and "art is long"; he is the product of immemorial ages, and deep calculation; one can't make a bird like that in a day.”

(You can read Mark Twain's brilliant essay on the Crow here)


Anonymous said...

thanks for the link, nice post.
w.s. :-) :-)

bythewindowsill said...

lol... came by to read again. :-)
so do they also (I prefer to think its a she) eat out of your hand??
I have tried in vain... :(

Anvita Lakhera said...

Considering that they can come into the kitchen through the window and push the lids off saucepans (and not to mention can make tools, if need be) it may seem a bit condescending (though very like humans) to try to make them eat out of our hands, no?:)
But they're so sociable, maybe they'll overlook this infraction too (as also the fact that you'd prefer to think of him as "her") :D

bythewindowsill said...

:D :D ... very human and condescending of me indeed. :-) :-)
thanks :D :D