The other day, I observed, in humbled silence, a vigil being kept by two crows as they watched over their dying companion- holding sacred space as the dying crow lay nestled in the grass. I was so moved by their attentive eye and compassion. The two sat high in the trees, taking turns warning and attacking any passer-by. The dying crow picked at the grass, eyes glazed white, and burrowed deeper into the ground. It was around 5 PM. I stood there, observing from across the street, for about 30 minutes. I’ve been there myself- holding sacred space, saying goodbye, keeping family close, blocking out unnecessary visitors. I went out again at nightfall. The crows were gone, having flown off to the rookery. The dying crow- not there.