The Call of the Crow
It may be time to listen
Most early mornings when I rise to go to my writing shed, in the trees above, the crows are cawing. These are not the delicate chirps of the sparrow. These are the raucous calls of birds in their full aliveness. One might call them squawks, but that would imply the crows’ sounds are alarming, unsettling, and blood-curdling. Instead, they are songs, big songs, rock-n-roll songs, steeped in the blues, in power chords and anthems. Think The Who and the iconic Roger Daltrey scream near the end of “We Won’t Get Fooled Again.” The crow calls are like that with their powerful and emotionally charged voices, awakening to a world that is still trying not to be fooled.
Maybe they’re trying to tell us something.
Families of crows live in the trees above the shed. They live in tight families, nature tells us. Monogamous couples, for the most part. They are social, roost together, forage together. And they live in relatively big families, usually around a dozen or so counting the baby crows in each family unit. It’s a rare thing in the animal world, although birds tend to be more socially monogamous than others, even when there’s a few side flings thrown in.
So, what are they cawing about?
Research shows it could be a call for food, an alert against a predator, an issue of territory, or it could be, as Native American lore suggests, a way for the crow to communicate something important, even to its human friends. It may be a warning to be cautious, a reminder to pay attention, or to trust your intuition and instinct. Crows, unlike other birds, can recognize faces, meaning they probably know who I am. But like a crow, it probably doesn’t care much about me. Still, the crow cares about the world. Some cultures believe crows are spiritual. They are a link to our ancestors or carry messages from the spiritual world. Whether one believes that or not is one thing, but there is no denying the crow’s intelligence and intimate connection to the natural world, including ours. Unlike many other species, research proves that crows show a kind of empathy. In one study, scientists have seen crows “adopt” young birds from outside their family. In one instance, a behavioral scientist took in a crow with a broken wing, healed it, and then placed it in an open aviary on his property. A large group of crows gathered around and for several days called to the bird until it finally flew out and joined the others.
At the risk of going deep down the old-man-bird-watching hole, the one The New Yorker not long ago featured and humorously scorned, I have come to recognize the crows near my home as companions. I look forward to their calls. I find their black feathers in the yard. I watch them soar and hop from high branch to high branch. I wonder how they’re doing. I like our relationship. But unlike Charles Dickens or Lord Byron who famously had pet crows, (Dickens had a raven, but technically the same bird family) I plan to keep my distance, observing from afar. But I’ll be listening every morning, listening for their hellos and their warnings.
It seems that in the world we now find ourselves, crows may have much to offer—intelligent advice about living, caring, tolerance, acceptance, and the ability to show signs of impending trouble. Those morning caws overhead, are they calls for caution? The Celts and Greeks believed the cawing crow was a messenger, a signal to re-evaluate, to re-consider one’s path, to get prepared for change. I must listen more closely to see what they may be to tell me and wonder if crows are gathering around the White House, the U.S. Capitol, near the Texas border, outside the homes of thousands of immigrants, in Gaza, in Tel Aviv, around the Kremlin, in Kiev, above the hungry and the terrorized in Somalia and Sudan.
The crows are calling. And I’m listening. I wonder if anyone else is.
David W. Berner is the author of several books of award-winning fiction and memoir. His debut poetry collection, Garden Tools is due out in pre-sales in June and officially released this fall by Finishing Line Press. His novella, American Moon will be published by Regal House Publishing in 2026.
I join you in wondering...is anyone else listening?
Absolutely love crows and learned a few interesting bits and pieces from you today, thank you!