The Crow

If you will, I would like to take a glance back at a past before I took to sea, to see a time long before that lent, in its way, to attitudes and omens of the journey and arose within me, a Renaissance shore across the oceans of time that I could not have possibly plotted for before.

Long before the boat, back in the long-gone year of 2014, when TikTok was still something clocks occasionally did and cat videos were still really, really funny.

When:

Once upon a midday dreary, while I wandered aimless, cheery,

Through the cemetery nearby with Jordan, friend from times before,

There we spied a frantic hopping, breaking, gazing, panicked stopping,

Onward staggered, downward flopping, flopping down upon the floor,

"What the hell is that?" I uttered, "Flopping 'bout upon the floor"

"'tis a bird and nothing more"

Remembered like last afternoon, 'twas in the warmth of early June,

Soaking within the sun's fair boon, making track back to my door,

Eagerly I passed time by, waiting for advent of July,

When then Tom, James and I would fly, o'er oceans vast there to explore,

Country deeply steeped in history, one that I loved to explore,

Japan - Tokyo and more.

As we watched it stopped uncertain, peeking up from green sward curtain,

it gazed, appraised me, fearful staring up from down upon the floor,

Curious stare back did I, that fearful fledgeling would not fly,

Each step a hop was its reply, but still as flightless as before,

"It cannot fly" I spoke, just stays as grounded as it was before,

- It can walk, but nothing more"

"If we depart from here" said I, "The cats shall come and it shall die,

taken young 'fore it could fly, a cry, young crow shall be no more"

"Then it must join when we depart, to catch it still will require art"

said Jordan, his coat held apart, a net, down trailing to the floor,

"Okay" I said, while faintly flanking, frit bird down upon the floor,

"We shall help you, nothing more"

With softest, gentle, quickest sweep, he caught the crow without a peep,

And slowly onwards cautious creep, caring not to scare him more,

From certain grave twixt graves removed, to softer nest with chance improved,

Though still his fear remained unmoved, no food he took though I implore,

Frantic fleas through feathers fled, left him unfed though I implore,

The crow was still, nothing more

From nest to vet we did depart, for hope to bloom from freshest start,

To helpful hands he prudent passed, his ailing to explore,

With words of Acheronic smite, "This crow won't likely last the night"

I still insist she take his blight, no fleas he would need now endure,

While leaving sourly dour once more, I still had hope that he'd endure,

"Surely, still I can do more"

Late night by side I stayed to try, with tender touch his beak to pry,

With clean water, grubs and meats - those treats he surely can't ignore,

But sullen, somber, sorrowed still, mere minute morsels managed 'til,

For rest, into the night I spill, with hope with sleep that he'll restore,

To bed resigned, one wish in mind, that he would please restore,

Just that hope and nothing more.

The morrow came and with delight, no conquered crow took by the night,

But by gold glow of sunlight flow, his feast was seen to be no more,

WIth gleeful gently gone approach, cocked head did he, but not reproach,

And closer still did I encroach, his fear of me no longer bore,

To hop and land on proffered hand, he his fear no longer bore,

From death saved and then much more.

For days and weeks then passed so fair, I offered food, he preened my hair,

From shoulder perch he would not tear, nor in the home nor out the door,

But time still marched and in July, it came to be for me to fly,

The holiday in which to try, the bounties of a far off shore,

I hoped that he, though free, would be, remain until I leave that shore,

A feathered friend, evermore.

Alight I did in warm Japan, my wanderlust the only plan,

And there with hand in hand my clan, 'til feet were worn we did explore,

With baking skin and fuller minds and bags stuffed full of novel finds,

Back home to perch our worn behinds, our smiles much wider than before,

Through times were merry, I'd not forgot my friend from weeks before.

Was he still here anymore?

Alas, much to my dismay, 'pon the branch he used to play,

basked in the blinding sun of day, my friend had left it long before,

Disheartened as I was back then, a joy that life was his again,

And maybe day would come soon when, he'd come by tapping at my door,

In summer bright or winter night, he might come tapping at my door,

But the crow came, Nevermore

(A Pastiche of the poem "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe)

The experience of caring for and bonding with John Snow (Jordan's name choice) has lead me to a much vaster appreciation of corvids and their insane levels of intelligence which, despite being unrelated to sailing, may be the subject of a future post regardless as they are just so fascinating.

I've always lived around animals in my household.

Rabbits, rats, cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, stick insects, fish and birds have all been pets.

Aside from that, my mother used to rescue hedgehogs and birds from time-to-time (From the cats on occasion) and it is from her that I must have developed my deep love of nature.

Since that shining summer though, crows and ravens have held a special place in my heart.

So, naturally, when we first took Hugr out sailing in November of 2019, upon a roving raven setting down for a spell on the mast, we took it as a good omen for times to come.

(In hindsight, a carrion bird setting on the mast on our first outing could have been seen as something more sinister, but you know what they say, hindsight is 2020...)

This butterfly effect also had other unforseen outcomes for our journey.

My interest in crows and ravens lead me to take more of an interest in their history, which in turn has lead to reading more into their roles aboard Scandanavian vessels during the Viking expansion (Which seems to be more mythic than objective) and in turn, their incorporation into Nordic flags and coins.

Further, this lead to more reading into the Old Norse, their mythology, history and language, eventually leading to the name we settled upon for our vessel: Hugr ("Mind/Mood/Thought/Heart/Desire/Spirit" in Old Norse), which, by an interesting coincidence is connected to the name given to one of Odin's ravens: Huginn("Thought") (The other is called Muninn("Memory/Mind")).

(Hell, even choosing our vessel was influenced in part by this, being an Icelander 40)

The ripple effect in turn lead on to a revitalisation of my love for history in general, which lead to more reading, further leading to me finally taking the time to finish most of The Discworld series and that sprung me back into writing again, a passion I had long forgotten and didn't realise how deeply I missed until I put pen to paper once more.

Looking back at the last few years and following the threads, it's kind of beautiful to see how this one decision, one that could have easily passed by unnoticed had we not spotted that little bouncing fledgeling springing around among the grass, went to define and reawaken so many things in my life today.

So make all the decisions!

Save that bird!

Climb that tree!

It could lead anywhere, influence anything and change your life in ways you cannot predict!

It's another line drawn on the portrait of your life and you never know, it could be the one that makes the whole picture start coming together.