My mother doesn’t watch birds, but she can tell you the name of any one that she sees. It’s impressive. I don’t know where she picked up that talent. Or she can tell you the name of any tree no matter where she is.

I ask her, “Hey Mom, what kind of tree is that?”

“Oh, that’s the Bois Dentelle, found near the Indian Ocean.”

“But Mom, we’re in Fresno.”

Don’t get me wrong. I can pick a pine tree out of a lineup. That’s not too hard. But a sycamore, that’s a different story.

The only tree I’m positively familiar with is a palm tree, probably the easiest tree to recognize. I’ve lived in Southern California for thirty-four years and used to live about two or three miles from Beverly Hills. Now I live in Palm Springs, where palm trees are all I see. But if I’m stuck in the forest somewhere in Northern California, I might be stumped at the type of tree.

The same goes for birds. I can identify a cardinal or a bluejay, both of which are rarely ever seen. In fact I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen either bird. They just don’t show themselves where I live, which makes them exotic. I see nothing but robins or finches (I think they are, but not positive) or crows, crows a plenty near my apartment.

I don’t know the attraction. What are they fond of that makes them want to hang out near where I live? Is it the palm trees? I know crows are a bad sign. People refer to them as harbingers of death. I haven’t died yet. They’re also supposed to be the messengers between the physical world and the spiritual. I have no messages to convey other than where has my spirit been this whole time? I’m also supposed to count crows for the meaning:

One for sorrow: there’s plenty of that

Two for mirth, of which there’s none.

Three for a funeral. I haven’t been to one of those in over a decade.

Four for birth: I can’t remember the last time someone had a baby. Maybe it’s the birth of something that isn’t human, such as the birth of faith, the birth of creativity, the birth of contentment.

Crows are also supposed to be a sign that something significant is about to happen. I don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that. Crows are figures in Hindu mythology for departed souls and are sometimes actually interpreted as symbols of good luck, smarts, and guardianship. Then again, Christianity sees them as bad omens for sin and temptation.

The only way I can identify with crows is that they guard secrets, and I have plenty of those. Nothing exciting, just things I’m too embarrassed to share.

All in all, crows are misunderstood. They’re birds like any other. They’re just big and black, and they get a bad rap because of their color, which society feels represents something ominous when really it means nothing.

The only negative trait I can see is that they’re carrions. Who likes to see a bird like the crow feast on a dead squirrel on the road? I don’t remember the last person who liked a turkey vulture. You don’t see framed pictures of any vultures in someone’s house. No one has elected to go vulture-watching.