Sunburnt Speculations

I think Moonshadow might love me. Not in the way she loves Midnight, the strong, glossy male, her life mate. But there is a softness in her regard of me, an almost imperceptible relaxing in her alertness around me, and a gentleness in her bright eye. 

All the crows round here are Torresian crows. They range from New Guinea, across the Torres Strait, and down into Southern Queensland; and over the Summer, Moonshadow and Midnight have allowed us to befriend them. I think you could call it friendship. I can’t show you a photograph because Moonshadow is still shy about that. But we greet each other in the morning and we talk, and we share gifts. Midnight allows it. He brought me cane toad, once – in exchange for the gifts of food and water, I think. And he has left me a feather! 

Moonshadow and Midnight are the names I have given them. That was presumptuous of me. They might have names for me, “Old Man Melon”, I like to imagine. I give them small pieces of watermelon when it’s hot. They can carry it away … to their nest, perhaps. I’m not sure about that.

Moonshadow doesn’t eat from my hand or perch on my shoulder or anything like that, though I’ve heard that some crows will – or ravens, at least. At meal times, I call out, “Tucker! Tucker!” and they swoop in from the trees. There’s a trustful anticipation in Moonshadow, as she hops across the yard to the feeding area we’ve made for her. She can always find clean water there. She prefers corn and peas, peanuts and cashews. Now that it’s getting cold, we sometimes combine their food in scrambled egg. That’s a treat for them when the temperature drops down near zero. It doesn’t happen often. 

She doesn’t belong to me, though I like to think we maybe belong together. She is wild and free. She belongs to herself … and to Midnight … maybe.

I used to think of crows as night creatures. I blame Edgar Allen Poe and Goth culture. But, as I’ve observed Moonshadow over the last few months, I’ve come to think of her as born of the fierce Sun, joyful as she plays with the wind currents that come all twisted over the hill and through the gum trees. And I love to see her high up in a bright blue sky.

I will miss her. I wonder will she miss me. Perhaps. 

I think Moonshadow might love me. And that comforts me.