Coco on the fencepost

W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

Black Crow/Cape Crow (Corvus capensis) - Endemic to Africa

Coco, my Black Crow’s favourite vantage point on top of an old abandoned fencepost.

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The way of the crow

“If men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough to be crows.”

-Rev. Henry Ward Beecher mid 1800’s

W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

Black Crow (Corvus capensis) 

There is little wonder that crows are very often the subjects of legends, folk-tales, and storytelling traditions around the world, all of which is very deep-seated and arising from myth and folklore thousands of years old. Anyone that has ever spent time with a crow will know how absurd these myths are and that Crows are no more ‘evil’ or ‘dark’ as depicted in these legends than a canary in a cage.

I make those remarks in light of the life I shared with Coco, a Black Crow (Corvus capensis), over the span of twenty years. She was keen of sight and hearing, and her other senses were no less acute. As was her sense of humour! She loved to mimic men laughing, producing the exact deep resonance of the male voice. She would also have a conversation with herself, changing voices as she went along, which she reproduced from the garden staff talking to one another. Another favourite of hers was hooting like a car, getting everyone in the household to go outside to see who has arrived. She would also call someone by their name at the top of her voice, also getting that person rushing outside to see who was calling, then uttering a long, low laugh, as if enjoying the havoc she’s causing.

She loved to play tag, pretending to peck your foot, getting you to chase her around the garden. And of course, one ‘myth’ that is absolutely true, is a Crow’s love for shiny stuff. No tea tray was safe unattended outside, as all the spoons would disappear and any jewellery lying around the house was at great risk!

A valuable lesson we could all learn from a crow is that they never “stuff” themselves with food. She would only eat until she was satisfied and then take the rest and hide it all over the garden, ready to be picked up at a later stage.

It is this kind of sensitivity that makes crows and other corvids legendary birds.

Coco passed away at the age of 27 in my garden (Tarlton, south Africa) after a stroke and I can honestly say no other animal enriched my life like she did.

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Crow wears a silver band

W&N watercolour on Amedeo 200gsm
Cape or Black Crow (Corvus capensis) – endemic to Africa
With thanks to John from Midmarsh Jottings for the use of his beautiful photograph.

Crow wears a band of silver on his ankle, holds it out to watch it glint in the sun like cool creek water. It is noon. He is the only one out. All others have sought shelter under the canopy of live oak, the leaves beneath the chaparral, Crow, the only one among them unafraid to cast a shadow. He is a black body to absorb the sun’s heat, and yet unheated.

He’s silver studded with stones, turquoise to match the cloudless sky. He stretches out his leg again, watches sky and water glisten on his ankle.

He flexes claws and brings his foot beneath him again, stretches out his other, naked foot for balance. His feet are beautiful, furrowed skin like charcoal scales, sharp and onyx claws. As flexible as hands, good for grasping new-hatched thrushes or pulling gate hooks from eye bolts, and sleek. The humans see crow’s feet in the faces of their most seasoned elders, the scars of a learned life spent laughing.

Crows’ feet, the mark of craft and cunning, crow’s feet a sense of humour made skin and sinew.
He swings down on the branch, holds himself upside down and swinging, the silver falling down around his upper leg as he barks in delight. Sky below his feet and swaying, silver pools above his head. The world so beautifully inverted, he cannot keep from laughing. This is beauty: the world turned upside down. You can keep your lithe ingénues, your florid sunsets and cloying sentiment: beauty is all that cleft in two, a cunning spark suspended by crow’s feet, a fall from a deadly height and then the swoop of wing, the thickening of the air beneath splayed feathers. Seeing air rising within air and climbing on it, sun glinting blue-black as night sky off your feathers? Night colours blazing brilliant from your feathers? Beauty is day turned to night and night to day.

Heart beats furious beneath that dark breast, mind burns in onyx eyes. Beauty a glint of laughter in a bottomless dark eye. He barks again.

Sun above live oak, a thousand suns refracted on the earth below. Grasshoppers leap into the air clicking. Wild oats, tawn in the summer heat, lean eastward with the breeze, and a wall of fog on the ocean twenty miles west. All this beauty: all this.
<sup>Story from Coyote Crossing

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Ode to the Crow

W&N watercolour done on a textured back-ground by Skeletal Mess on Visual 200gsm

Ode to the crow
that finds its way
to fly straight home
on this most terrible day.
Through gusts of wind it takes flight
through rain and storm
through dark and light.
We cower down at the sight of bad weather
and it lands when its done
not missing a feather.
We act as though the world revolves around us.
yet when the finger is pointed
all we do is gripe and fuss.
we set our traps of jealousy
to capture which we yearn most
A white lie here and a grin of deceit
we are determined to make all
bow down at our feet.
through dust in ash
where all you can hear
is a wallowing cry
I say ode to the crow
that continues to fly.
- Cameron Daniel Brooks

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A Crow's dream

W & N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm
Coco, my Black Crow (Corvus capensis) having a dream

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To build a nest
with twigs unrest
lying here, lying there
to lay some eggs
and breed some chicks
to teach them how to click
to swing in the branches
and spy through the arches
to bathe in the puddles
all cool bathed rooms
in search of green woods
fully loaded with ripened fruits
all life did I stood
for life and livelihood
my nest my homes
one for one crow-hus
same straws yet new nest
next time I breast
sweet life, luxurious breeze
small problems everything within reach
friends of mine
plenty and more
we dine together
that is where we gather
we dirt eat to purify the earth
our souls divine burn the heaps holy
Yet I dream of cages untold
where parrots feed on milk and grains
mellow fruits are ripe and ready
anytime to taste without buddies.
 ^{lalitha iyer}

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A Murder of Crows

One crow, sorrow, 

two crows, joy, 

three crows for a girl, 

four crows for a boy, 

five crows for silver, 

six crows for gold, 

seven crows for a secret that's never been told.

 - Ashe Corven 

A daily practice of sketching and painting gives you a chance to exercise the big three P's 

- practice, practice, practice! 

A collection of crow sketches done on a free Textured back-ground from Boccacino - first I print out the texture on watercolour paper and then paint the sketches on top of that. 

Although cultures around the world may regard the crow as a scavenger, bad omen, or simply a nuisance, this bad reputation might overshadow what could be regarded as the crow’s most striking characteristic – its intelligence. 

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The Playful Crow

“Even the blackest of them all, the crow, Renders good service as your man-at-arms, Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail, And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
 - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Coco, my Black Crow - Pilot Fineliner Black Ink sketch and watercolour in Moleskine 200gsm Watercolour Sketchbook

Crow – Corvus capensis. Found: Africa

 

Ample press is given to charismatic animals such as dolphins, chimps and the like, but few, when talking of intelligent beings, think to mention the crow or raven. It is, however, easy to understand the natural aversions some people have towards these birds: They’re lacking in any type of floral-like beauty; they have a cacophonous and sometimes incessant caw, and are cunning thieves to boot. 

But if you look closer, and get to know these beautiful birds on a more intimate level, you will see not just see ‘plain black’ feathers, but beautiful iridescent colours of purple, blue, green and brown. And discover a great intelligence, and even a sense of humour, not normally associated with birds. 

They are smart, ingenious, protective, adventurous, and full of engaging play; I recall my 27yr-old crow, Coco, watching intently as I planted my pansy seedlings, only to up-root them the minute I turned my back, cawing in laughter as she fled my mock chase! 

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Watch what we believe

 

W&N watercolour on Amedeo 200gsm 

This was Coco's (my Crow and companion for 20 years) typical stance when she was relaxing, and to me seemed wistful, pensive and deep in thought. I'm sure crows can be deep in thought - she certainly had enough to ponder - whether she should go into the kitchen and beg a tit-bit, where next to dig up my seedlings in the garden, which of the dogs to harass by pulling their tails or stealing their food or even wandering into the bedroom or bathroom to collect some items to stash up her tree. 

Crows often appear in groups and I've often wondered if she missed the company of other crows. Though there seems to be no variation in their caw-ing to each other, each caw actually has a different meaning. I would immediately know when she's hungry by the caw she uttered and their complex vocabulary is one sign of their intelligence, and is also a sign of their significance as power animals. When a crow explores something new, others watch closely to see what happens and then learn from it. They often make great noise when hunters are around, warning the animals and other birds. Crows recognise potential danger and hence always post lookouts when feeding. This is their most vulnerable time. This helps us understand that we must watch what we believe, to test our habitual ideas about reality against a more universal standard. 

Coco passed away at the age of 27 after a stroke and I can honestly say no other animal enriched my life like she did. 

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Crow on a bough

 

W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

Coco, my Crow and companion for 20 years 

I'm a crow on a bough 

battered by the winds 

I've got shelter indeed 

but Ill brave it for my sins 

I'm the sun on a snowdrop 

opening from it's sleep 

I've got a world to light 

but on it's petals I'll beat 

I'm the dogs at your door 

begging to be fed 

but if you feed me once 

your step will make my bed 

 like a worm in a worm hole 

thoughts tunnel my mind 

I am all of these things 

these exist within mankind 

- Unknown

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