A FAIRY TALE

The Freezing Crow

Among Karma and Snow

Photo by on

There once was a crow, so large that he could have been a raven. His name was Blackwing.

Although Blackwing had a large family and knew many, many more of his kind, he preferred his own company and often set out alone, much like a raven, in fact.

And another thing he did like a raven, although he was a crow, he would glide on his wings. First, he would flap, flap, flap high up into the air, and then, into the wind, he would keep his wings stretched and just glide and glide, riding the air almost like an eagle. Or an albatross. The other crows thought him a little crazy, to be frank.

This one winter’s day — the sky was draped by a whole flotilla of snow-bearing clouds, ready to bear down upon the land below — Blackwing took a long look at the sky before he made up his mind: he would not spend the whole day shielded with his blizzard-expecting family and all the other crows here in the forest, he would, as usual, set out for another solo expedition. He would make it back before the snow, he was pretty, although not entirely sure.

Those around him, both family and not, told him (and anyone else nearby) that he was crazy to set out on a day like this. Snow soon; too cold. Blackwing ignored all this and took to the air, soon gliding…