Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Mr. Crow Goes To School.

An odd sight today, taking the girls to school.

The walkway leading to the school was empty of all the usual suspects: kids running to the building, parents frantically dropping off science projects (which probably represent more of their efforts than those of their student), and the occasional teacher running "just a few minutes late" and hurrying to get to the classroom before their charges arrived.

Empty. Clear. Quiet.

Save for one crow. A large specimen, even for his species. Shiny and so black that he was almost blue in color. Practically iridescent. And this crow was walking away from my view and towards the doors of the school.

He was walking to school.

Perhaps it was the extra jolt of coffee I'd had that morning, but I found this sight to be extraordinary in nearly every way. My mind's eye flipped through multiple What Ifs of this scenario in rapid succession, and I found myself completely transfixed by it. What if this lovely fellow went to school? What would he do in there? Did he know he was heading to school or was he being dared by some bigger crow bullies who were off in the field watching him. Was this a crow initiation of sorts, perhaps? Or did it mean, (as is most likely the case, I know) absolutely nothing at all.

And still I wondered. And thought. And watched.

In case you're wondering, and I have to assume you must be just a bit curious since you're still reading these words, he made it all the way to the door. And then stopped and turned around, and headed off to the field. Perhaps he 'Chickened' out? (Can you use other members of the aviary community to describe the actions of a crow?) Maybe at the very end he decided, like any kid might do, that he just didn't feel like going to school today after all. Maybe he went back to home sleep. Maybe the bully crows in the field pecked at him for failing the initiation. Or maybe he was just being a crow, doing what crows do, and his curiosity ran out and he flew off.

I don't know. Never will.

But if I had to put a writer's spin on it, I like to think that he was tired of doing 'the same old thing' and was ready for a new adventure.Just for today.(Ever felt that way?) But when he got there, he hesitated, as we all are known to do. There is comfort in the familiar. He left that path, and headed back to his routine. His adventure put on hold for another day. Later. Next time. Someday. Maybe.

Perhaps I'll see him another day. (I find myself silently cheering him on).

No comments:

Post a Comment