Saturday, 2 April 2011

One Little Crow

In the part of the world that we live crows do not have such a great name for themselves.

They are known to be quite 'forthcoming' in their role of carnivore.

For example, they will not wait until a weeny little lambiekins has actually moved on to that 'better' place before commencing their meal.

Not pleasant.

One day Scott (my lovely other half) finds one strung up and caught tight in the back fence.

Few folks here would think ill of him for either walking away, or in fact, for finishing the blessed creature off.

Yet he did neither of these things.

He carefully unwound the crow and then gently released it.

The crow was a little shaken up - yet able to fly fairly easily.

Rather than flying off with a squawk the bird pulled itself up some short distance away, looked at my husband in a quizzical way, turned it's head this way and that muttering some gurgle sounding crow speak.

Just a few short days later our two year old daughter suffered a snake bite, from the Eastern Brown - a most deadly variety.

Lo and behold, by some miracle she lived to tell the tale.

I wonder what it was that crow said in it's universal speak?

Coincidence, or just another beautiful example of connection?    

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