It had a stoic look on its face that said it all. I don't understand the entire multiple complex phrasing of the Northwestern crow, but I know body language pretty well and I knew, that crow knew, it was walking into the abyss. It was silent. I never thought I would see it again and put it out of my mind.
I was working in the orchard two days later and there it was. Still alive and hopping from bush to bush for cover. Hiding to avoid detection from the predators, both its own kind and the raptors. Still doomed. It doesn't seem fair.
You or I may break an arm or leg and it's usually an inconvenience ; rarely ever a tragedy, and hardly ever are we doomed. If we were, we would not likely bear our fate with the stoic silence and grim recognition of the injured crow. Natural justice and Mother Nature. Crows gave no quarter and received none The Northwestern crow should have been chosen as the emblematic bird of British Columbia rather than the awful Stellers Jay. The crow is a soldier.