Contact Me

If you enjoy my blog and would like to contact me, you may reach me at this email: dena.netherton@gmail.com

Some of my stories are published in:
A Cup of Comfort Devotional for Mothers and Daughters (Adams Media, 2009)
Chicken Soup: What I Learned from the Dog (2009)
Love is a Flame (Bethany House, 2010)
Extraordinary answers to Prayer (Guideposts, 2010)
Love is a Verb (Bethany House, 2011)
Big Dreams from Small Spaces (Group Publishing, 2012)

Friday, September 11, 2009

The Glory of Crows

We put up a bird-feeder on our back deck this summer. Within an hour, sparrows, siskins, chickadees, house finches, crossbills and a little fluffy black and gray bird that I can't find in my bird book, flocked the feeder.

Even when I'm inside the house I can identify each visitor to the feeder by its distinctive call. Their little chirps, cheeps, fee-bees and tweedle-eedle-oo-ees sound like excerpts from a symphony score composed for piccolos. So harmonious, so delightful. Like miniatures members of an orchestra, their music lifts my spirit and summons me to worship the Creator. What pleasure I derive from their daily hymns of joy. It's easy to see why God created song birds.

A telephone pole towers on the far west side of our property. Another type of bird likes to perch at the very top. Impressive in size, his bright, beady, intelligent eyes examine us from his post as we sit on the deck, having breakfast. His lustrous black feathers catch the sunlight and he turns to preen an errant plume back into place. Another of his kind glides to a nearby tree and our shiny fellow thrusts his head forward, opening his beak for his solo.
Caaaaaaw!
That's it. One note, blatted like a beginning trombonist.
What was God thinking when He made that sound?
The crow must suspect that his call does not belong in the musical score, for he rarely joins the orchestra except when, as if by accident, his voice should happen to mingle, uninvited, with our adorable woodwinds.
Yet he is the black-caped comedian, croaking, cawing, and imitating humans and other birds. He is the street cleaner, awkwardly galloping away from a road kill when a car approaches. He is the vigilante, joining with his dark gang to mob an owl or hawk.
He is no songster.
But he belongs.
I Cor. 12:14 and 17-20:
"Now the body is not made up of one part but of many.
If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But, in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them just as He wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body."

3 comments:

  1. After reading your post, Dena, I'm feeling a little guilty about my dislike for crows. I mean, when you put the black monster bird in the context of "belonging" and relate it to the body of Christ, it causes me to pause. I'll never look at crows the same way now.

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  2. Nancy, crows make me laugh. They're so much smarter than your average bird. You can just see them thinking.

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