How I Buried a Crow

Soupy Sales and I were taking a walk around the block. It was a strange walk. I found myself becoming progressively fuzzy-headed with each step. It was as if I was falling asleep as I walked. It became so overwhelming, this sense of sleep-walking, that I thought I would spread a blanket out on the grass when I returned home and stretch out under the sun to nap.

As we came down the final stretch of our walk, I spotted a dead crow on the road in front of my next-door neighbor's house. I squatted down to look at her. I reflected on this life, now lifeless, and was filled with sorrow and gratitude.

I put Soupy inside the house and pondered how to bury this crow.  I needed something to wrap her in. I discarded my immediate thought of a plastic bag in deference to a piece of fabric. Red, I thought. So I went to my store of fabric and found two pieces of red. I chose the brighter of the two. What else did I need? It occurred to me that it would be nice to have tobacco and cornmeal, neither of which I had on hand. I don't know why this occurred to me except that it is the sort of thing offered in Native American rituals. I considered going to the store right down the street from me to purchase these things. But it seemed to me that I needed to initiate the burial immediately and not when certain conditions were in place.

I scouted a spot in my back yard that I thought would make a nice burial site for the crow. I gathered a bundle of sage, a candle, which I lit, a seashell and a stone to leave on the grave, and took these to the burial site. I then prepared to gather the body. I thought for a moment about taking a feather from the crow. And then I wondered if that would be disrespectful. I would like to have the feather in case I needed to include it in a dreamcatcher I might make for someone...someone who might need some crow medicine.

In Native American traditions, Crow is the keeper of sacred law. Human law - including the dictates of any orthodox religion - is all an illusion. Crow sees that there is a higher order of right and wrong that guides us. This does not match the laws created by human beings. Crow signifies that "all things are born of women." Crow sees inner and outer reality simultaneously. Crow merges Light and Darkness. Crow empowers us to follow our inner sense of harmony and justice in our daily lives.

I decided that if I cut off a lock of my hair and give it to Crow, then I could take a feather in good conscience. So I grabbed a pair of scissors and removed a thick lock of hair. I placed it in the red fabric and went outside to collect the crow's body.

I knelt down and put the fabric around the crow. I held her for a moment and admired her beauty. Her talons, her feathers, her face. Then, I noticed a feather, a solitary crow feather, on the road next to the curb. A tiny bit of blood was inside the tip. I paused with gratitude. I would not need to pluck a feather from the crow's body. I wrapped the red fabric around her, completely enclosing her body, and carried her to her burial site.

There was a wooden step that had come loose from something laying beside the burial site. I laid the body on it while I dug the grave. In preparation for digging, I lit my bundle of sage by the candle and allowed its rich smoke to permeate my senses. I waved the burning bundle around the area where I was about to dig, around myself, around the crow.

I dug the grave. There were no tree roots in the area I had chosen. The soil was damp and soft. The grave was dug quickly and easily.

I re-lit the sage and held it down inside the grave, allowing the smoke to waft up along its walls. I encircled the crow's body with smoke from the burning bundle as I thanked her for her life. I thanked her for her beauty and her wisdom. For her guidance. For her mystery. For her medicine.

I felt tears welling up inside me. My inner editor said it was silly to cry over a dead crow. I allowed myself to ignore the inner editor. I allowed my tears to flow. I said to the crow the Ho'oponopono mantra: I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank-you. I repeated this for myself and for all humanity.

I placed the crow's body into the grave. I took a handful of earth and sprinkled it over her body. I did this again and again, breaking up dirt clods with my fingers. I found a rock the length of my hand in the pile of dirt. I brushed it off and set it aside. I found another rock that fit into the palm of my hand. I set it aside. After all the loose dirt and been piled on top of the crow, I placed the larger rock at the crow's head and the smaller one at her feet. I placed the shell with the stone inside it on the middle of the grave. I left the bundle of sage to burn out on its own. And that is how I buried a crow on a sunny afternoon as my mind went from fuzzy to clear.