Once there was a small crow. He lived in a decent sized town, where there was plenty of food. Normally crows that live in the jungle have to worry about other birds, especially young crows like this one. But because this crow lived in the city, he was really only worried about other crows getting the food before he did. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so he still depended on his dad to show him where the food was, and to help him get it. One day, his dad landed quietly next to him on the telephone wire where he was sitting.

“Son, we need to have a talk.” His father began.

The young crow didn’t’ like this one bit. You know how it is. When somebody sits down with you and starts with “we need to have a talk,” it never is to tell you that you’ve won the lottery, or school has been canceled or anything else good like that. It’s usually when you got in trouble or some other bad thing is about to happen. You know the feeling.

The young crow gulped. “Yea? About what?”
“Well, son,” the father began, putting his wing around the boy. “You are getting pretty old. I know it’s hard with your mom gone and all, but you need to figure out how to get your own food.” The young crow gasped in shock. Get his own food? That would mean fighting with the other, older bigger crows, wouldn’t it? They would never let him get near the good stuff. He’d have to eat the stuff they didn’t want. His mind instantly swirled with thoughts of being outcast from the crow community, not having any friends, not having any respect. Never being able to grow up and develop a crow family. He became nervous, scared, afraid. Like he was when he still lived in the nest, and his mom would bring him food. He missed her.

“But why can’t you help me?” he asked his dad.
“You need to learn how to get food for yourself.” The dad said, and prepared to fly away.
“Where are you going? How will I know what to do?” the young crow asked in desperation.
“You will find a way. You are a crow. You will know.” With that he left.

For the next few days, the young crow was too afraid to go down where the other, bigger crows were pecking through the trash and having their fill of large pieces of discarded food. The more he watched the other crows, the more frightened he became. He hadn’t eaten in several days, and he was becoming weak. Surely if he tried to get some of the food, even the leftovers that the crows didn’t want, they would easily chase him away. Even worse. He noticed that the crows were starting to look at him, and he was sure they were talking about him.

After another couple days of sitting, and watching, and imagining the certain horrible death he would experience if he tried to get some food, he reached the breaking point. The point that you realize you have to do something. You have to make a choice, and follow through with your choice. Because if you don’t act, you will certainly fail. The young crow got to the point where the pain of inaction was getting larger than any imagined pain of action. Summoning all of his energy and courage, he opened his wings and glided down, landing clumsily next to the trash heap. He was more than a little surprised when a couple of bigger, stronger crows jumped, startled, when he landed. The young crow took a deep breath, expanding his lungs, making himself appear slightly larger.

The two nearest crows hopped back, just a little bit, eyeing him carefully. One of them bent down and leaned toward a piece of meat. The young crow immediately hopped forward, not questioning where his sudden strength and courage came from, only accepting them. He reached the piece of meat before the other crow and stood, meat in beak, staring at them defiantly. He quickly gobbled the meat down. He looked around the trash heap, and found a piece of meat, then another, and then another. Finally having eaten his fill, he hopped back into the shade, and watched the other crows feed.

When the other crows were finished eating, they hopped over into the shade. After exchanging introductions, they explained the schedule.

“On Tuesdays and Fridays are when they throw away the good stuff.  The rest of the days is glass and other stuff that we can’t eat.”

“What do you do on the days in between?” The other crows looked at each other and smiled.
“C’mon, we’ll show you.” And they all flew of together.

Several months later, the young crow, who was rapidly becoming not so young, happened across his father on telephone wire.

“Father.”
“Son.”

“What did you learn?”

“That fear is only your imagination. As soon as you face fear, it disappears.”
“Very good, son. Do you know why I didn’t just tell you that?”

The not so young crow thought, and remembered how startled he’d been when he’d first discovered his courage.

“The only way to know something like that is to experience it, yourself.”
“Very good, son. You now know the secret.”

They both sat in silence for several minutes, until the not so young crow saw his new friends flying high across the sky. He looked briefly to his father, bowed his head quickly in respect, and then took off.

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