The Cardinal and the Crow

Fable, parable, moral and fun-play

The crow sat stoically and uncharacteristically, alone.

“They call us a Murder for a reason, you know?”.

“Always in a gang?”, quizzed the colorful cardinal.

“No. Actually not. Not always, as you can attest here today. No, we are called a murder because of how we protect our group when one of our own is fallen”.

“I’ve seen such a thing,” replied the cardinal.

“Yes. Even I find it a barbaric and ritualistic behavior. How crows do think as one mind, whether in flight, or when we dispatch one of our fallen soldiers,” thought the wise, old crow.

“But we protect our own,” said the black bird, sleek and shimmering, wearing an all-black coat like a pall-bearer.

“From what? From where I stand you kill your own,” in rhetorical inquisition stated the cardinal.

The crow thought on this one.

“How can I respond, when it is so obvious, and true?”, he pondered – taking sweet time to respond to the colored bird.

“Through the sacrifice of one, we save multitudes”, said he.

“But the sacrifice was not pure,” said the cardinal.

“Whatever do you mean?,” the raven replied.

“He did not choose it himself, the bird you murder,” pointed the cardinal.

“Ah, but he did, you see. He chose it when he joined the Murder. When he took off the old coat, and put on the new,” responded the crow.

The coat of the crow, it is said, would change once the individual joins the Murder. An oily sheen was applied, that would stay with the bird throughout its life.

In contrast, the cardinal was a chamelion sort of bird. In the Winter months, he was a dark grey and aside from his size difference, hardly distinguishable from his life-long mate. But every Spring he would put on his “cassacks” and the plumes would ignite with a flare of hues, red caps and red vests and besplinded like a Roman Pope, or an Anglican Arch-Bishop.

“Yes, when he joined, you are correct. But what say does he have in the moment of death? We serve a God who grants us free will and the worst of us may be granted absolution in our final breath, and the very best of us might turn away from God in his final moment on earth. Only God will know. But it is the Cardinal’s choice”, he said.

“Yes. And choice is evil, as you point out. We expect our own to live in the way, once they have put on the new coat. When they die in the moment (quickly, as we always ensure), they have not time to recant the rigors of their training. They die as they lived,” said the crow.

“Yes, as trained puppets. They are comfortable in their “training”, as you call it. Each year we Cardinals change. Each year, we grow in our faith. Each year we attract the same mate with our coat of colors, and we increase our family and our community. Each year, we improve to a glorious day when we go on to our promised own”, pointed out the Cardinal.

“So let us agree to this, Potentate Crow – that we both work for the same God. We both serve Him well, and he is likely pleased with our efforts. But we do it in slightly different ways. We do not sacrifice our own, but we do sacrifice ourselves, and it is good”.

And the Crow nodded in agreement.

The end.