Companion: Middle English: from Old French compaignon, literally ‘one who breaks bread with another’, based on Latin com- ‘together with’ + panis ‘bread’.
I break biscuits for CD. We are companions.
Today was very windy. I had seen and fed Droopy and Three, then I saw one of the Fluffies. That was it. I was rather disappointed. If I wait around long enough, though, CD nearly always appears.
He sat in the tree above me and used the wind ruffling his feathers and exposing the down to perform a very careful clean. Underneath, the fluff is pale grey, a beautiful blue-grey. The colour, perhaps, of heartbreak. He twisted like a pretzel to clean the feathers of his tail. Scorpion-crow.
After a while, he flew down to check out what I had left for Droopy and Three. Then he cawed at me. I cawed back. This carried on and on. I repeated the number of caws and tried to match his pace. He flew back into the tree and we continued. After a while he changed from caws to a more sonorous glooark sound. Always, for some reason, five of those. And then, the clicking.
This was communication. I mean. This was communion... we did not know what the other meant apart from 'I see you, I hear you, I am with you.'
But then, what, when it comes to it, is more intimate than that?
I had spent about half an hour just with him, after fifteen or twenty minutes wondering round (I was able to see Divo and Diva). And in between, I gave CD a biscuit. He did the drop-and-catch routine and then something new - he span on his axis, upside down and upright again.
My friend, the aviator.
After this I walked into town and chatted with James who lives on the street. Everyone knows James. So many people who pass buy him coffee or food. Some offer him shelter for a few nights. He said he wouldn't survive without the community. Companionship.
On a whim, I went into the crystal shop. I bought a gift for Reserve Officer Ian and a third Tarot Deck. Well, I had to - it's called Murder of Crows.
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