It took two-hundred thousand years for the human population to reach one billion. Then, it took two-hundred years for our human population to reach seven billion. Want to know how long it will take for that to drop to zero? Ask the crows. I’m not saying they’ll answer, but they know. They know many things, like ‘the proper way to compost a human corpse’. A bit of morbid wisdom, perhaps, but it’s second-hand-wisdom to them. Why? Because, our bond with the crows is as ancient as the stars. We’ve woven them into our progeny, far more than the dogs, the cats or the cows. Murder is as much a part of our history as farming and, dare I say, just as significant. Cows adapted to farming, same as the crows adapted to killing, by transmuting its own actions to befit those of its masters… and thus, it became an expert assassin.
Where, then, you might ask, is the history of crow domestication? Where it belongs: Annihilated in its perfect evolutionary prowess. Erased, of its own accord. Dead, like Spanish influenza: gorging itself on its victims until it ran out. A perfect killing machine self-destructs of its own volition. Thus, it completes its cycle. Humanity’s bond with the crows was a mutually assured destruction. Our love for one another, dare I say, rivaled the love we have for dogs. Our animosities and jealousies worked in quite the same way. Did you know, a crow remembers both the face of a friend or an enemy? Some would say they never forget a friendly face. Others remember their scorn, with the utmost respect, veneration and terror.
A crow is an affectionate and generous friend. If you offer them kindness they’ll return it tenfold. If you offer them hate, well, don’t… the love of crows is an inherited promise of our mutual success, possessed of an ancestral magic. And still, they are dark, mysterious, enigmatic figures that none should completely trust. A crow is so loyal in its affection that you’ll never have to ask it to commit murder. It’ll know, without a word, the wrath in your heart, and act on it without command.
What I say instead is, “let it go” and they do. One crow lets go an eye. Another, a second eye. Another lets go a kidney. And another, a shin, a rib, a mandible, a gall bladder. Two more go for the eyes, of course (crows love to collect the eyes, like trophies). The man falls. Dozens more let him go. Pecking. The man kicks. Screams. Cries. Blood trickles from his pockmarked face. The bastard suffers. All is right with the world. I say, ‘let it go’.
A refined (dark) sense of humor is inherent in all crows. They get a good laugh from simple things, like shitting on passersby. Sometimes, they like to steal money from one pocket… and ‘air-drop’ it to another. They can also communicate with eloquent voices that are not their own. They’ve mastered human language to the point where they can mimic anyone they’d like. How do they use such skills? To start fights in bars. To pit children against each other in schoolyards. A bit of fun is all it is. It’s not their fault their sensibilities tend to be a bit darker than ours. They’re not as attached to humanity as they once were, so they see no problem in sewing discord between us.
They kill, more often than not, in silence. People, animals, insects… all possessed with the potential for death and circumstance. Crows love to ‘alter’ circumstance in the name of a good joke. A common cause of death linked to a crow is ‘accidental homicide’. A crow will wait for hours in a tree, where a sharp curve in the road makes for the perfect crime scene. They’ll wait for the perfect moment to swoop down and send the car flying off a cliff. Or, they’ll leave a few acorns out too far on an icy pond. A squirrel will brave the frigid landscape, not realizing a crow laid out the perfect trap. A murder of crows will dive-bomb with the tenacity of B2 Stealth Bombers. A squirrel shatters the ice of its own panicked volition. It slips into the cold recesses. It sinks. It dies. Crows are so good at what they do. They kill without killing… and get a good laugh.
So You Want To Befriend a Crow
After all I’ve said… you still want a little crow companion. Fair enough. I’m sure all this talk of car accidents and eye-pecking sounded too fun to pass up. Let’s start with the basics.
Step One: I’m sure many of you have viewed crows as simple ‘trash birds’, but I assure you, their tastes are quite refined. Sure, they’ll dive-bomb a dumpster to appease their bellies, but that has more to do with what we throw out. Human trash is a cornucopia of delicious, gluttonous waste. Fat fucking idiots discard the most delicious leftovers on the planet. They’ll gladly battle pelicans and pigeons to taste that decadent filth. Feed them. Let them feast. This might sound simple, but finding the right food to align with their diets isn’t easy. A nice bowl of peanuts and grapes will usually grab their attention.
*Presentation is everything. If you are in possession of a Grecian urn or decadent, gold-plated fruit bowl, it will be most beneficial.
The other issue with feeding them is that a rotten bastard blue-jay is likely to steal it. They’re much faster than crows. It’s difficult to get the attention of a crow before a blue jay will snatch away its meal, but always worth the effort. Keep an eye on your offerings. If you see a blue jay, scare it off. The longer they stay away, the better your chances of attracting a crow.
Step Two: Talk to them. After a few feedings, talk about the weather. Crows go out of their way to hear about natural disasters devastating this or that continent. One day, turn up the volume on your television real loud, and all day, keep it tuned to the Weather Channel. Once the broadcaster starts talking about some flood in Tanzania the crows will go wild. I assure you its more complicated than I’m making it out to be, but it’s simpler to try it yourself. You have to learn how to talk to them about it, as it’s nothing that we’re accustomed. What I find easiest is a simple, ‘How about that weather?’ comment. They eat that up. They won’t shut up and they expect you to listen. They’ll quiz you on what you remember and, what you don’t remember they’ll repeat… often.
*Master the second step and they’ll never abandon you. This is, in part, because they hate losing friends that care about the weather.
Step Three: Let them in. Crows don’t need a place to stay, but once you’re their friend they like to check up on you. Leave a window or some slot in the door open, like you would for a puppy. Always leave a ‘crow’s entrance’ or they’ll come crashing through a window.
Step Four: Kill a fucking blue jay. Their mortal enemy. You’d think the crows were at war with the blue jays for how much they seem to hate them. The annoying sound of their squawking agitates the delicate sensitivities of the crows. They’re annoying birds that care nothing for the weather. That’s pretty much all there is to it. Kill a blue jay and make a friend for life.
Step Five: Never tie your shoes. If you have Velcro sneakers a crow won’t bother with you, because they like shoelaces. They love impressing a new friend by tying their shoes. So, leave them undone. Walk around a group of friendly crows and let them have fun.
Also, if they see some loose rope or even a bit of fishing wire, it’ll end up tied. One of my crow friends tied a bow with some fishing wire around a small-mouth bass. They’re in good humor, these guys.
Step Six: Construct an Altar to the Dark Lord of ‘Enu Ana Rlyeh’. Some fellows speak of a forgotten world, a place where crows’ wings echo like helicopter propellers. It is there that crows are taught the old ways, when men first molded them, and perhaps, they did the same to us. An ancient world, where the obelisks of another time hold vigil over the ruins of a lost society. They speak to me of a place founded above a beating black heart. They say, when its pulse quickens, all is lost.
I built a model city based on their description, out of Popsicle sticks and glue. Since then, I’ve been a good friend to them. I also gathered some of their favorite rocks (soapstone, marble, limestone and basalt). It’s about ten feet long and wide and they use it as a playground. I enjoy watching them grasp a purple marble meant to depict the ‘Eye of Negach’, which they toss around for a good time.
*A crow in good humor is called a ‘fellow’. A fellow of crows, is like an improv comedy sketch group. They’re renowned throughout the inner circle of grows.
Step Seven: Ask them if they know that we call a group of them ‘a murder’. Most of them don’t, but once they do they think it’s the funniest thing. Murder to them is a good joke. They enjoy it almost as much as they do the weather.
So, You Befriended A Crow…
After the seventh step, a crow becomes a ‘Ka-Num’, a ‘well friend’. A well friend is a brother without all the blood. This is when they ask if there’s anyone you want to kill. Whatever you do, don’t say no. Not that anything bad happens. It’s just rude. I made the mistake of telling a crow to ‘let it go’. After that, Ka-Num meant something else. It meant the light within my soul was much darker than I’d assumed. The crows knew it and translated it into ‘biblical plague and the end of days’. I thought we were brothers. I was right, but I failed to appreciate what that meant to them.
The crows pecked a hole into the center of the model of Enu Ana Rlyeh. An anomaly of black feathers and mud covered the opening. They fed it worms and covered it with dirt and hay. The anomaly ate everything they brought. I asked what they were doing and they said, “Killing time”. Giggles. Lot and lots of crow giggles.
I’ve never been good at making friends. Talking to people feels like so much more work than talking to crows. I gave up after years of failure. People don’t make sense to me. We breathe poison and talk politics and think nothing of the weather. If an oil-tanker crashes and spills millions of gallons of crude into the ocean, we blame the company. And then, if an extremist on another continent slips anthrax into the water supply, we blame them. Have we not to ask the crows? Crows don’t care about politics. If you’re a crow you’re a crow for life. The affection I’ve received is greater than anything humanity ever gave me. It’s easier to befriend a crow than it is a man. Men have ideas. Crows have fun. They tinker and peck and have as much fun as they can.
The thing in my basement within the model city of Enu Ana Rlyeh is looking more like an egg with every new day. It spasms and coos, as the opening widens. Warm black sludge drains from the opening and covers the egg. I don’t dare touch it. The stench is enough to keep me away.
I awoke the next morning without my right foot. White bandages covered a stump above my ankle. A pair of crutches waited at the side of my bed. I went down to the basement. There were dozens, much more than a murder, of crows.
The crows turned when I entered. You would’ve thought I had eleven heads!
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Their wings fluttered and they floated through the air. Whispers invaded the room and echoed from within the egg. A narrow slit at the top of the egg folded outward. A beak pushed through the opening and echoed the dreaded curse, “Killing time”.
“The Sin Crow emerges!” The crows declared.
“Plague of crows!” I shouted. “What is this?”
“A breath of fresh air!” More crow giggles. “There is no end more fitting for man than upon the wings of the Sin Crow. The final days of man are upon us!”
Molten waste poured out of the egg. The crows fled through the open window. Black lava flooded the basement. A black hand emerged from the egg and spread its feathery talons across the room. The black mess climbed the steps of my basement, before I ran through my house and didn’t stop until I was miles away.
My home sank into the earth and took with it the entire block. The shadow of crows followed me for miles, until a hole ripped open in the sky and swallowed them all into that endless void.
All I wanted was a friend. All I got was ‘a breath of fresh air’. The Sin Crow is everywhere. You have one year, maybe less. Enjoy it, good people. Make a friend of a crow. Maybe it’ll be enough to convince them to call the Sin Crow back to that fallen city. Or maybe, just teach them the names of your enemies and count your blessings.
Let it go.