Why Crows? Why Circling?

First, I have always thought crows were cool.  They hold some mystery for me: I remember when I was a little kid watching seemingly endless flocks of crows around sunset flying in long clouds coming from where I couldn't see and going to where I couldn't guess.  They do this where I live now, too, and it seems just as mysterious, even though I know where their rookery is.  They also have the mystique that comes with being frequent figures in myth and legend; I especially love the mercurial trickster crow characters that populate some Native American tales of the Southwest.  In truth, crows are smart, raucous, a fascinating balance of individualistic and collectivistic, and, I think, beautiful birds.  I love their caws and the many distinctive calls they have; they are sophisticated social animals.  They are intelligent, highly adaptive tool-users and elegant and practical fliers. 

Crows are opportunistic omnivores; they hunt, forage and scavenge.  At some point in my past an image came to my mind of crows circling in the air above something on the ground.  This image was meaningful to me: if I, as a terrestrial animal, should notice a handful of crows circling in the air, I know these opportunists have found something of interest to them, even if I don't know what it is.  The crows see what I cannot, yet, by their presence, I am alerted to the existence of something which would otherwise have remained outside my awareness; they are pointers, flags, dreams, catchers-of-attention in the corner of my eye.  In this way, circling crows represent the things in my life that point me to what I might have missed: unexpected opportunities to learn, to grow, to nourish myself. 

Like any metaphor, this one is imperfect, but it is very personal, so its flaws don't really matter to me.  I am using this image here because it communicates something of who I am and where my values lay.