My favorite time of day, during summer here in the PNW, is when the crows fly at sunset. They’ll sit for hours in the trees on the cliff near our house facing the Sound. As the sun crests over the mountains they get restless; the younger crows try to rally but the elders stay patient. The call to fly is unrecognized by my ears but once they take to the sky the chorus and black canopy over my head gives me warm chills and I smile wide. I’m happy to know these are my neighbors.
My admiration for these creatures inspired this piece, entitled The Call