Which sounds like a euphemism of some sort but I assure you it’s as literal as it can be.
Yesterday was a strange day, from the moment I woke up until the time I went to sleep something was just- off in the universe. I know how that sounds but that’s simply how the day felt. Anyway, mid afternoon my mother who has been at my house visiting and doing yard work sent me a text message that said “Did you know you have a dead crow in your back yard?” I was taken aback. A crow? Not a black bird or a blujay but a crow? I responded with “Oh no! How could that have happened?!” She said she couldn’t tell but thought maybe I should call the CDC or Animal Control to make sure there was no Avian Flu in our area, so I did and there wasn’t.
When I got home I grabbed a shovel, some garden soil and one of my flowers that I’ve grown from seeds and went out. He’d been there for a few days though his feathers were still very clean, I moved him a little check the breed (to make sure it was a Crow not a Raven) I said a tiny little prayer for him and let the voices of the universe know that I was listening to whatever they wanted to tell me.
Just like Odins’ Ravens, Crows were messengers (as well as bringers of death) and their death can be seen as a good omen or a sign of something ending and something beginning. I’m not particularly superstitious or even religious in anyway, but even I’m not going to deny something so significant. The irony (irony? I’m never sure how to use that word) is that just recently I’d been doing reading about birds, especially crows, and their meaning to culture and religion; I guess it was only fate that I’d be burying one.
I moved him on to a mat I had outside because I knew there would be bugs and carried him over to the grave I had dug for him. I carefully set him in and said another small little prayer and stared burying him. I wanted to cry but I managed to stop by reminding myself that death was just the last stage of life and that at least somebody cared enough for the bird to bury them instead of throw them in the garbage.
Once I was finished I planted the flowers over the top and stood up.
I’m not sure exactly why I felt I had to do it but something inside of me begged me to bury that bird, to give it some type of last rite. It’s just a bird and there’s a millions of crows, but I don’t know.