The Salish people from Skagit tell the story of Raven and Crow’s Potlatch. Like other traditional tales, there are many different versions. The basic story is that Crow worked hard all summer to lay in food stores for winter, while Raven played and did not prepare. Raven laughed at Crow when Crow urged him to follow squirrel’s example. Raven was in trouble as winter approached and went to Squirrel to ask for help. Squirrel scolded Raven. He went looking for Bear, but Bear was sleeping. So he went to his cousin Crow’s place, but instead of begging, he devised a way to trick Crow. He began talking about Crow’s potlatch. Crow had not planned a potlatch, but Raven said everyone was talking about it and couldn’t wait to hear Crow sing. In those days, Crow had a beautiful voice like that of the Wood Thrush. Crow felt flattered and soon was preparing a potlatch. He cooked all of his stored food while Raven invited all of the animals to come. Crow practiced songs, but Raven told the other animals that it was he who was giving the potlatch. All of the animals came. Crow had prepared all of his food, but each time he tried to eat, Raven urged him to sing another song. After all, except Crow, had eaten their fill, the guests collected the leftovers and took them home as was the custom. Crow thought that he could survive on the generosity of the guests since he had no food, but they did not invite him to eat because they believed Raven’s lies and thought it was Raven who had hosted the potlatch. Crow was starving, and his singing voice was destroyed. He was forced to spend his winters begging for scraps of food and making scratchy sounds: Caw! Caw! Caw!

There are many other stories of Crow told by Coast Salish people. In her series of Coast Salish Stories, Andrea Fritz has a story about Crow helping Wood Duck.

Humans have long been aware of the intelligence of crows. They demonstrate sophisticated problem-solving skills, the use of tools, face recognition, and complex social behaviors. Some observers claim that crows hold grudges, plan for the future, and pass down knowledge from one generation to the next. One day, our grandchildren were briefly entertained by a man who fed crows by throwing peanuts under a car. He showed the children how the crows would land and go under the car to pick up the peanuts, while the seagulls, who also liked the peanuts, couldn’t figure out how to get the peanuts that were under the car. We have observed crows in our neighborhood who wait for the seagulls to get into garbage cans, tear open the bags, and spread the garbage before the crows sweep in and take the best bits away from the gulls.

Indigenous storytellers interpret the visits of birds and animals as signs for humans. They tell of messages carried by the creatures that benefit their human observers. My imagination doesn’t seem to be able to reveal the messages carried by birds and animals. Yesterday, as I sat outside for a few minutes, taking a break from my bike ride, a crow landed a few feet above my head. It walked back and forth on a building awning and looked down at me. Perhaps it was looking for scraps of food, but I had no food with me. I didn’t have anything to offer. The bird tipped its head one way and then another as if studying my face, looking directly at me. I looked back, but couldn’t discern its message.

Perhaps the crow was visiting to warn me of the coming of winter. Yesterday was a lovely, warm day, more like summer than autumn. But colder weather is coming. The days are getting shorter and the nights are colder than they were a few weeks ago. Rain is forecast for next week, and I know that even though the honeybees are busy during the day, the time is coming when I need to have their hives prepared for winter. I install small passive solar heaters on the hives and add feeders, allowing me to provide them with syrup as a supplement to their honey during cold periods.

On the other hand, it may be that the crow didn’t have a message for me other than a request that I bring some food with me next time. I could put a few peanuts in my pockets for another visit. I’m pretty sure that if I had placed peanuts on the railing next to me, the crow would have come down from the awning and come even closer.

Yesterday, it seemed like the crows were having a convention in our town. There were lots of crows everywhere I went in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, I could only see a couple of them. I don’t know where all of the others had gone. I made up a story about the crows’ convention. I joked about the different breakout sessions that they might be attending. They might have a workshop on tricking the gulls so the crows get the best scraps from the garbage. Another might be finding places to find food that other birds do not visit. Of course, they would have to have several workshops on murder.

I suppose that the use of the term “murder” to refer to a flock or group of crows comes from the birds’ scavenging. Observers saw them scavenging the bodies of dead animals. Perhaps they were common on battlefields and at cemeteries. I think some have interpreted the black color of the birds as an omen of misfortune or death.

A crow convention might also have genealogy working groups. Crows are members of the Corvidae family, which includes ravens, magpies, and blue jays. Crows didn’t inherit the size of the other birds and don’t have the showy tails of magpies and jays.

An ornithologist might provide a better explanation for why I saw more crows in the morning than in the afternoon, and I should be interested in the scientific information. On the other hand, telling stories about crows has been a part of coastal culture for thousands of years. Maybe I’ll just come up with one more story to add to the collection.