By A couple of weeks into the Great Lockdown –
robins nesting in the ivy, wild bees
in the eaves, as usual – we were
visited one day by a carrion crow,
its feathers of a blackness beyond
perfection, clinkered armour buffed bright.
It landed, the size of a large cat,
on our modest bird bath beside the lilies
beginning to burgeon. In its beak
was a portion-sized piece of baguette
or ciabatta, which it dropped in the water,
then flew off. At intervals it returned,
snacked on the softening bread, and left.
For a week and more it had the same routine
each day – and then never appeared again.
Maybe its local supply of hard, stale crusts
closed down – or it discovered a bakery
careless with fresh products. Its curious
visits, though fascinating, held a threat.
What if it’s ‘caw, caw’ were merely cover,
and, when it rejoined its muster, it said,
‘Comrades, here’s an end to waiting for the crumbs!’
or, alternatively, ‘Colleagues, regarding
the dry bread problem, I have a proposal…’?
I imagined an Hitchcockian horde
darkening our skies, murdering paradise.
baguettecarrion crowciabattaHitchcockthe Great Unconformity
Kate Harrison
July 24, 2020Moves bird table further from the house . . .
We had bees in the eaves as well. That whole ‘the birds and the bees’ thing? It was just bees and bees.
Ashen Venema
July 24, 2020Clever crow. Some animals, who kept their distance from humans, have responded to the reduction of people traffic. In my area foxes expanded their territory, including my gardens. It does give rise to the imagination.
David Selzer
July 24, 2020It’s as well perhaps other animals are not be able to pass on this sort of very specific learning to their fellows.
Tim Ellis
July 24, 2020A poem pregnant with premonition, although I must say I quite like crows myself!
Jeff Teasdale
July 27, 2020Yes, wily, beady-eyed, intelligent birds always on the lookout for the main chance. Have you read Jim Perrin’s accounts of the birds around Harlech? As in your poem, David, he has a deep insight into the habits of long-observed magpies and jays (and other birds) around his garden. Also, Ted Hughes’ book ‘Crow’, to which I was originally attracted by the stunningly original illustrations, but was then drawn in by the poetry. A wonderful collection. Note: if anyone reading this still has my signed copy of ‘Crow’, I’d like it back please…..Some hope!
Sally Young Eslinger
August 16, 2020David, please know I did not attend Yale Lit. Matter of fact in high school the Eng teacher gave me a grade just above failing, because when she asked my interpretation of a poem, I was very wrong, as it wasn’t close to what her teacher’s told her was the poet’s intentions. So, anyway, being a self-taught poet, I found myself reeling with discordant emotions by the end and, yea, throughout reading this poem.
I put much stock in poem titles lately and had to re-read this one 4 times before beginning; wasn’t sure how you could have Great UN-something. But in the end it added a volume to what I took as the poem-as-metaphor above all its interior presentations.
I think this is indeed a truly living poem, having flowed from you with little editing needed. The robins and bees happy in their “assigned” conformity. Even the crow strikes a beautiful character from the bird world, and, as they are, clever to leave and return to water-softened bread…except you put the single alliterative emphasizing adjective “carrion” (as presented so horrifyingly by Hitchcock) to summon a higher level of conformity is indeed frightening. Indeed.
And there the poem brought me back to metaphorical shudders involving our present day political and environmental world. Are we one of the unconforming carrying rifles to our state houses or local businesses to fire against rulings to wear masks? Are we unconforming if we dare suggest Trump is an illiterate liar who longs to start a race war so he can declare the country too disrupted to leave office? And why, oh why, have his carrion tactics and his ego-driven non-diplomacy gained such popularity around the world?