The Crow's Return North
The parliament was especially good to me this year. Nestor Statue Raven, one of the newer members of the northeastern quorum hailing from some town in Vermont, took me under his wing for the winter. I learned more this year than I ever have before. He taught me some of the High Raven caws so I could understand some of the more esoteric aspects of their meetings and he made me keep a journal for the purposes of personal reflection. It's a habit I intend to keep, so I guess this is my journal for the journey back north.
Notes on the effects of Spring air on carrion
I never used to like carrion from Springtime. I found it off-putting the way that all the blooming and blossoming and wet heat makes everything, even animal carcasses, taste fresh and vibrant. I always thought, "What's the point if it doesn't taste dead?" but I guess tastes can evolve. This year I find myself grabbing bits from the first post-hibernation kills and really enjoying them. Maybe it's because I'm not making a whole meal of them this time around. Nestor got me into balancing my dishes. Before this year I went about food like any crow, nabbing whatever came opportunistically and pecking around until I wasn't hungry anymore. Now I know the value of constructing a proper meal. I take a little Spring carrion, mix it with some tree berries and, if I'm near civilization, some bread crumbles. So satisfying, I don't even know how I lived before.
Ruminations on the caprice of female crows
Nestor talked a lot about cycles, how a lot of things have a way of coming back around and repeating themselves, for better or for worse. The seasons, for example. Winter always comes, winter always kills, but winter also always melts. He helped me see my own cycles, how they harm me and how some of them are inevitable while others can be broken. Nestor kept me up nights conversing about what he called my "heart cycle". See, every year I leave the city and go south regretting the things I didn't get done and hoping for the next year to be better. Every year I come back to the city looking for stability and companionship. And every year I get my little heart broken when the she-crow I'm certain is the love of my life just abandons nest and disappears forever. Nestor helped me come to the conclusion that I put too much pressure on them to stay, which only makes them run faster, and that if I hooked up with the right pair of wings, I'd probably run away with her instead of waiting for the city nest to go empty.
Nesting in new rafters
Before I left, Nestor made me promise that I'd break an old habit of mine of setting down sticks in old buildings. See, I've got this affinity for those old, broken-down churches and warehouses all around town. No one ever goes there and I can make a nest in some high place and never be bothered. Nestor says that's bad for my soul, that I should spend this year hanging out in new places, places under construction and such. I'll have to move more often and keep an eye out for the dangers of a high-traffic area, but maybe that's the point. I guess watching something get built and appreciated could do me some good after so much time hanging out in the abandoned and forgotten. This could be a really good year, I think. Those ravens, they know what they're talking about.