I’ve been reading “When the Trees Are Silent,” a compilation of Thomas Merton’s nature writing. He describes a lot of birds, including crows, who paid numerous visits to the woods around the monastery where he lived in Kentucky.
I particularly like this paragraph, from the “Firmament” section, under “Sun and Moon”:
The sun is rising. All the green trees are full of birds, and their song comes up out of the wet bowers of the orchard. Crows swear pleasantly in the distance, and in the depths of my soul sits God.”
Of course the crows are swearing. I imagine every other word they caw would need to be bleeped. But they’re swearing far away. It’s not angry or vile, just crow chatter.
And Merton is at peace. He is aware of the presence of God even amid swearing crows.
Crows are part of creation. We don’t need them to be gone or even to be quiet to find rest for our souls.
