I was adopted by crows. At first just one, but he gradually brought his whole family—wife, and the two kids of the season.
Started with Diaval. Yes, nod to Maleficient, and it’s just a cool name. I usually just think of him as D. Murder, or DM. He likes the name, but is amused that I could give him one. He named himself, and hasn’t shared it yet.
He introduced himself boldly enough. Getting my attention in a manner that I could not ignore.
Diaval Murder dropped out of the sky one day in early spring, landing with a clatter of claws on my greenhouse roof. I didn’t pay much attention at first, birds come and go in the garden and often bounce on the plastic roof tiles. Bigger than a sparrow, I mused opening the compost bin to toss out some old scraps.
“What a waste!” Clear, English, popped into my head, with a distinctly masculine vibe. Astonishment, that I would throw away so much food filled me as I tossed the stuff into the bin. Now, I looked up.
Crow was staring directly at me from the peak of my greenhouse roof. He tilted his head, black eyes connected to mine. “What a waste!” He repeated. Just in case I wondered who’d spoken before. With the words, an image, other crows, and a wave of hunger. And just a bit of pique at my inconsiderate behavior.
Crows are not as picky about the condition of their food as humans.
This one was different.
I’ve reached out to the wildlife that frequents my yard many times. Hubby and I’ve been here a while, and gardening is our hobby. The birds and other critters enjoy our yard as much as we do. I’ve had passing acknowledgment to my overtures at communication, but nothing so overt as Big D’s brash first comment.
Well, if he was going to be bold and direct.
“Too late for that. Trust me you wouldn’t want it. Let me get you something else. Wait there.”
It took just a few moments to get some kibble. DM had flown to the wire overhead, but cocked his head to fix that one shiny black eye on me. I held up both hands, showing the little pile of dog kibble in each palm before placing it on top of the garden fence posts.
“Enjoy.” I told him. “I’ll walk away now so you’ll be comfortable.”
Didn’t take him long to figure out I feed my dogs some high-quality stuff. He was back on that wire over the garden later in the day.
And pretty much every day since.
Would you like to learn animal communication? It’s not some distant, unreachable goal. Not reserved for just some special few. You. You too can have a closer, more meaningful relationship with the animals.
Look for my next book on developing animal communication skills due out later this fall.
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