How Crow Got Her Caw
This fable begins,
As these stories do,
Back when the earth was young
And everything was new.
Each bird had a voice.
Each one, big or small,
Shared the conversation and dreams
Of what could become for all.
As they gathered, clothed in soft gray
Or brilliant plumes of scarlet and blue,
They all felt welcomed and included.
They were We together,
Not separated into Me and You.
Illustrations by Darby Giannone
Between conversations, they took to the air,
Flying in swoops, circles, and darts.
Each in their own style and dance
With freedom’s joy beating in their hearts.
And, so it went, as time slipped by
Until one day Crow raised the question,
“If we keep doing what we’re doing, although
it’s fun,
How are we going to arrive at a destination?
How do we stay warm in the winter?
How do we get enough to eat?
How do we raise our families?
Deciding for all will be quite a feat!”
“You are so clever, Crow,” said the wren.
“Why don’t you take the lead
To help us decide how we get
What it is that we need?”
Crow cocked her head and began to strut,
Her black plumes shining in the sun.
Her voice flowed in inviting tones
As she declared, “There’s enough for everyone.
If the smallest takes the least,
And everyone, by size, takes the rest.
There will be contests of beauty and wit
To decide who will get the best.”
Conversations stopped and the air stilled.
Each looked at the other and began to see
The differences between them
And We became You and Me.
Illustrations by Darby Giannone
But they lined up for each contest,
Determined to win,
As Crow won and won
And what was left got thin.
“What will we eat and where will we stay,
If Crow takes the best and the most?”
“If you want more, you need to be like me,”
Said Crow in a sneering boast.
“You must be beautiful, clever, and best.
You must know how to structure the game.
You can’t worry about those who fail.
Take what you want and let them feel blame.”
At this point in the story,
A benevolent being with great power
Shows up to take charge of the show –
Comes to the rescue at the critical hour.
But that’s not what happened here.
As the birds protested and cried,
Crow talked more and louder - claiming
She only told the truth – never lied.
Dusk settled, drawing birds to their beds,
And quiet song filled the darkening sky.
Crow chose a high branch for the night
Plotting a winning strategy to ply.
For winning regardless of cost was her concern.
She had no remorse for those who had less.
Let them figure out how to survive.
After her share, there would be some surplus.
In a soft dawn, bird melodies greeted a new day.
Crow woke - her throat feeling raw.
She gathered herself to win verbal battle,
Opened her beak and heard CAW.
The raucous sound reverberated in the air,
Sending all into hiding. Silencing all singing.
Crow shook her gorgeous plumes and sang again,
But CAW rang out and kept ringing.
While this story ends with birds still divided,
It’s not hopeless because now they know.
Selfishness can’t hide beneath beauty and wit.
It has the caw of a Crow.
Illustrations by Darby Giannone
