Counting Crows and the Music of the Spheres

One day I must hear the band Counting Crows.  They named one of my favorite discoveries.

A few years ago when I walked from Hazel Street to the office, a solitary crow lurked at the bottom of St. Clair Avenue and cawed at me.  I used to caw back matching him caw for caw and often adding one; he always matched or added another caw.  As I walked uphill out of earshot, I’d throw in a rhythm change and the crow would usually match that. 

Yesterday I mowed the back and then front lawns at the Hazel Street studio, attacked some invading ivy and trumpet vine, and planted some herbs.  A crow was in the backyard when I started.  He cawed; I cawed back three for three.  He cawed five; I cawed five back.

Eventually I moved to the front lawn.  So did the crow.  He began to vary the game.  It was no longer just number and rhythm of caws.  He threw in words.  He began with “caw”.  He added “aeow” then “cee” I tried to match the crow word for word.  I hope he was proud of training me so well.

After returning home, after a shower, Ox and I went to Mint Springs to cool off.  He’d been doing forestry at the Crozet house as I had been gardening at Hazel Street.  We didn’t even walk around the pond; we only went to the middle of the dam and listened in the mist.  First the green frogs twanged their rubber bands.  Later two high pitches of spring peepers started in a steady song.  Red-winged blackbirds punctuated with calls a couple of times.  Just before we left we heard the bullfrogs start up.  They sat well apart from each other around the pond.

Just standing there for half an hour was as salutary as any meditation.