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It’s that time of year again. The crows are barking at me. I thought I would pass the season unscathed but this morning the dive-bombing games returned. To be clear: the crows dive bomb me, I do not dive bomb the crows. I have no reason to aim my beak at their pates and swoop in unannounced.
The attacks often begin with a rowdy barrage of crow insults. At least, I thought they were insults. To the untrained ear it sounds as if they are mocking the shape of my head or saying crude things about my mother. Crows are not subtle.
Since this has been going on for years I thought it would be a good idea to know what they were actually saying! Perhaps my assumptions are wrong! Perhaps there is a reasonable explanation for their barking and diving at me. It might explain why they pick me out of the crowd. So, after some searching I found and hired a crow translator (at the moment there is no app for crow translation).
At first, I thought my translator was crazy or somehow distracted. Her translations sounded suspiciously crow-centric. After a few translations I began to get the gist of things. It turns out that crows bark Haiku! They are especially fond of Basho, the great Haiku master because he penned so many poems about crows. This is what the crow barked just before aiming its beak at me (as translated by my translator):
The crow sits
on a dead branch –
evening of autumn
“Their seasons are all confused!” I protested. “Autumn? What’s this crow talking about and why do they attack me?” The translator smiled knowingly and said:
“This is not attack.
The crow desires your response
This fine spring morning.”
Great. The crows want a poem instead of my usual flailing arms and duck-n-cover maneuvers. All this time it was art that they craved.
Attack someone else,
My head is full of divots.
Nice shot. Hole in one.
Filed under: Art, Surprises, Truly Powerful People | 6 Comments »



