4 India (The Rains)
June 1, 2022

65 The Omnivorous Crows

There is a dead tree nearby, ragged and forlorn, and this morning a crow and its three fledglings cluster on the edge of one of its branches. The young birds caw-caw endlessly as their progenitor busily digs his way deeper into the entrails of a dead squirrel. I saw this group on the ground earlier when they had first found their victim. At that time but a small red wound had been opened up and the feast was just starting.

Crows are about as omnivorous as any creature can be, and that is what gets them their bad name – there is virtually nothing they won’t consume if its handy, or even if it’s not: I once saw a pair of crows picking alternately at the eyes of a dead dog lying in the middle of a busy road, jumping out of the way as the traffic bore down on them, only to return when the vehicle in question had passed. Here it is more usual to see them feeding on the soft orange flesh of a ripe papaya that has fallen or been torn down from a tree.

But today meat is on the menu, and the parent bird diligently rips sinew from sinew from a creature which only a few hours ago was running merrily around the coconut trees. When a piece of flesh of sufficient size is wrenched free from the rest of the body, it is then fed into the demanding beak of one of his offspring which, with a noise somewhere between a gurgle and a chuckle, is gladly accepted, while his two siblings caw even more loudly with disappointment.

On a nearby tree another squirrel lets the world know its distress as it scolds the birds that are devouring his one-time friend.

Fair Flower

Who are you, fair flower?

’Twas in the morn
that you were born
so large and white
a delight to sight
you blessed my eyes
as dawn arose
and then again
throughout the day.

Then as sun goes down
I look around,
to my surprise
I see you’ve blushed
a shocking
– or is it a shocked –
shade of pink!

What did you think,
what did you see,
to bring such shame?
I cannot say,
how you were born,
why now forlorn,
they are to me
sheer mystery.

But by end of day
you’ve gone your way
leaving behind
memory in mind
of your loveliness,
your comeliness,
and of your face
now brought to disgrace!

66 Communion