"You have been turned into a New Caledonian Crow, scientific name Corvus moneduloides."- Nyla Gill
Today you wake up, outside of your warm bed and in an oak tree. Sharp talons are dug into a branch from your previous night’s sleep, and you bring your hands to your face only to discover that jet black wings have replaced them. You look amongst your surroundings and discover your vision has improved, you can see light in a combination of four primary colors instead of three! Cawing goes off around you, and you realize you aren’t alone. The tree and the two trees to you’re left are filled with birds. You’re in a flock of what humans call a “murder.”Today you wake up, outside of your warm bed and in an oak tree. Sharp talons are dug into a branch from your previous night’s sleep, and you bring your hands to your face only to discover that jet black wings have replaced them. You look amongst your surroundings and discover your vision has improved, you can see light in a combination of four primary colors instead of three! Cawing goes off around you, and you realize you aren’t alone. The tree and the two trees to you’re left are filled with birds. You’re in a flock of what humans call a “murder.”
You have been turned into a New Caledonian Crow, scientific name Corvus moneduloides. The most rational thing for you to do right now is to ask questions, and find help. You decide to converse with your fellow feathered friends and family you never knew were all having various caw-versations around you. Now being able to comprehend their language you hop around to the branch next to you.
A beautiful old pair greet with an affectionate neck rub. Crows can remember their parents! And now you’re remembering last night you revisited them for a hunting trip together. They thank you for the previous lovely evening and you ask them where you should head off to next. They offer your usual breakfast spot of the dumpster behind a friendly diner that’s been therefor decades. The owner loves crows and always treats the early birds with special greasy scraps. You decide that’s where you’ll head when your father tells you not to take a certain route, as they have been hunting and shooting down any crows that fly in the area for years. Your mother reminds you to still defecate on any buildings you see once you reach the route’s town, since they just opened up freshly white-painted mall.
Following pure instincts, maybe your crow body has just flown this trail so many times before, you easily find the small blue diner. The dumpster behind it is stacked high with trash, and just as you settle for a nice-looking leftover sandwich, the owner, you remember his name is Jim!
Jim walks out with a young boy. He instantly welcomes you with a radiant smile, but the boy looks to you with apprehension.
“Aren’t you going to shoo it away?”
“No, no, these crows have been here since my Nana was running this diner. They’re smart creatures, smart as a seven-year-year child, you know!”Jim turns to you and presents half of an omelette on the bin of the dumpster.
“These guys here are my favorite species, their brains as intelligent to crows as humans are to primates!”
‘Well what can they do?”
‘Here’s one cool trick for you. Wait here.”
Jim goes back into the gated door and walks out with an apple, orange, beer and a carrot.
Suddenly you recall this game that Jim often plays with you. It’s no challenge for you, you use your beak to pick up each food and arrange all four into two groups on top of the dumpster bin. You easily are able to separate the fruits from the vegetables.
“So what, they can group fruits together.”
“Look closely, my naive new employee. Apples are to oranges as beets are to carrots. They can understand analogies!”
You gobble up the reward omelet as Jim goes on to speak your praises. Good man, you think, and you remember to tell your other crow friends to hunt for any rats or pests lurking around the outside of his diner in gratefulness. Hopefully his employee follows through.
You give a loud thank you caw before departing.
You soar into the air and coast by several towns. The sky is nice, blue and breezy.
Later on you find the appeasing snack of a large walnut on the ground. You pick it up with your beak and look for a nearby car. Once you spot one, you fly up high above the red van, and drop it onto its roof. The walnut cracks and you happily crunch the seed.
This is when you hear the high-pitched call of a hawk. Your natural predator. The hawk doesn’t even notice you, but crows stand their ground well and you aren’t taking any chances. You stop right in your tracks and search for another group of crows in your proximity. You spot a small murder nearby and fly down to tell them the news. All you need are a few caws of explanation and you all fly into the air with the hawk in sight. Your neighbor crow reminds you to be swift and not get too close. You all caw loudly and gang up as a mob, swarming around the hawk and nipping at its wings. The hawk quickly gets the message and flies out of your territory.
It’s an hour or so before darkness comes so you follow the gang of crows to an empty parking lot. This serves as a pre-roosting spot where you simply calling out, foraging and fighting together.
After awhile, the gang decides they’ll head out. You figure you’ve had enough adventure for one night so you make you journey back to the oak trees. The flight is long, but your wings can glide in the air at an outstanding 30 to 60 miles per hour so they’re hardly sore.
The tight-knit community of your dearest relatives and friends greet you. It’s like a two-tree crow hotel. Once you return to your parents, you spend the evening picking out bugs from twigs, and when night comes you settle on the branch next to your family to roost.
You have been turned into a New Caledonian Crow, scientific name Corvus moneduloides. The most rational thing for you to do right now is to ask questions, and find help. You decide to converse with your fellow feathered friends and family you never knew were all having various caw-versations around you. Now being able to comprehend their language you hop around to the branch next to you.
A beautiful old pair greet with an affectionate neck rub. Crows can remember their parents! And now you’re remembering last night you revisited them for a hunting trip together. They thank you for the previous lovely evening and you ask them where you should head off to next. They offer your usual breakfast spot of the dumpster behind a friendly diner that’s been therefor decades. The owner loves crows and always treats the early birds with special greasy scraps. You decide that’s where you’ll head when your father tells you not to take a certain route, as they have been hunting and shooting down any crows that fly in the area for years. Your mother reminds you to still defecate on any buildings you see once you reach the route’s town, since they just opened up freshly white-painted mall.
Following pure instincts, maybe your crow body has just flown this trail so many times before, you easily find the small blue diner. The dumpster behind it is stacked high with trash, and just as you settle for a nice-looking leftover sandwich, the owner, you remember his name is Jim!
Jim walks out with a young boy. He instantly welcomes you with a radiant smile, but the boy looks to you with apprehension.
“Aren’t you going to shoo it away?”
“No, no, these crows have been here since my Nana was running this diner. They’re smart creatures, smart as a seven-year-year child, you know!”Jim turns to you and presents half of an omelette on the bin of the dumpster.
“These guys here are my favorite species, their brains as intelligent to crows as humans are to primates!”
‘Well what can they do?”
‘Here’s one cool trick for you. Wait here.”
Jim goes back into the gated door and walks out with an apple, orange, beer and a carrot.
Suddenly you recall this game that Jim often plays with you. It’s no challenge for you, you use your beak to pick up each food and arrange all four into two groups on top of the dumpster bin. You easily are able to separate the fruits from the vegetables.
“So what, they can group fruits together.”
“Look closely, my naive new employee. Apples are to oranges as beets are to carrots. They can understand analogies!”
You gobble up the reward omelet as Jim goes on to speak your praises. Good man, you think, and you remember to tell your other crow friends to hunt for any rats or pests lurking around the outside of his diner in gratefulness. Hopefully his employee follows through.
You give a loud thank you caw before departing.
You soar into the air and coast by several towns. The sky is nice, blue and breezy.
Later on you find the appeasing snack of a large walnut on the ground. You pick it up with your beak and look for a nearby car. Once you spot one, you fly up high above the red van, and drop it onto its roof. The walnut cracks and you happily crunch the seed.
This is when you hear the high-pitched call of a hawk. Your natural predator. The hawk doesn’t even notice you, but crows stand their ground well and you aren’t taking any chances. You stop right in your tracks and search for another group of crows in your proximity. You spot a small murder nearby and fly down to tell them the news. All you need are a few caws of explanation and you all fly into the air with the hawk in sight. Your neighbor crow reminds you to be swift and not get too close. You all caw loudly and gang up as a mob, swarming around the hawk and nipping at its wings. The hawk quickly gets the message and flies out of your territory.
It’s an hour or so before darkness comes so you follow the gang of crows to an empty parking lot. This serves as a pre-roosting spot where you simply calling out, foraging and fighting together.
After awhile, the gang decides they’ll head out. You figure you’ve had enough adventure for one night so you make you journey back to the oak trees. The flight is long, but your wings can glide in the air at an outstanding 30 to 60 miles per hour so they’re hardly sore.
The tight-knit community of your dearest relatives and friends greet you. It’s like a two-tree crow hotel. Once you return to your parents, you spend the evening picking out bugs from twigs, and when night comes you settle on the branch next to your family to roost.
