It's the Tiny Things - My Neighborhood Crows
I believe a crow lives in all of us. ✨🐦⬛
Yesterday morning I was sitting in my living room, coffee in hand, slowly waking up. My studio/living room has large windows, and just outside them stand towering oak trees – home to crows, oak titmice, grosbeaks, and the flocks of parrots that pass through screeching like tiny dinosaurs.
I couldn’t ignore the commotion outside. The crows were livid. My first thought was: one of them died.
I’ve stumbled upon not one, but two crow funerals in my neighborhood before.
When a crow is injured or killed, others gather. They surround the area, calling out. Hundreds of crows fill power lines and trees, all sounding the alarm together. Sometimes they even leave objects near the fallen crow.
Once, I watched a crow drop a tiny twig beside another that had been killed in the street, while hundreds stood witness.
Yesterday, I stepped outside and saw the oak trees filled with crows, calling to one another. As I descended the stairs toward the street, I saw why – a large coyote stood on the sidewalk. I paused there with my pug in tow. Thankfully, the coyote turned and ran in the opposite direction.
The crows fell silent.
They hadn’t been mourning.
They had been warning one another.
I felt a deep ache in my chest thinking about what these crows do for one another. Their intelligence rivals that of chimpanzees. They use tools to gather food. Siblings help care for new babies, bringing food to their parents. They remember human faces. They remember kindness.
What brought tears to my eyes was the reminder that this is how we’re meant to live.
I thought of my neighbors – how they show up for me even when I don’t ask. How our community banded together during the Los Angeles fires, giving what they could, volunteering, caring for one another. How deeply human it is to want to help.
And then I thought about all the people who no longer feel safe. All the unnecessary suffering. All the ways we’ve forgotten how to look out for one another.
I look to the crows.
They remind me that supporting our community is not something we have to learn – it’s something we remember. That it’s in our nature to protect, to warn, to gather, to care.
I believe a crow lives in all of us.
And I hope that one day every human lets that instinct guide them – toward a world in which there is less fighting and more empathy. This planet is full of abundant resources; used correctly, we could all thrive.
Until Next Time 🌙 ✨
Kim
P.S. Please leave a Tiny Thing below from your past week.
Have you ever used Insight Timer? It’s a meditation app with a huge library of daily practices. I use the free version (there’s an upgrade if you want access to more), and lately I’ve been listening to a meditation in bed right after I wake up.
There’s so much on there that it can feel overwhelming at first, so I wanted to share a couple of teachers I especially love:
Saskia Lighstar just released “Make 2026 The Greatest Year of Your Life” - I know that is a tall order. But her accent and delivery are just dreamy. She also has a bunch of free meditations that are shorter and make you feel whole again.
Charlotte Cooper has a lot of good content like Finding the Real You - Her voice is so soothing and her words so right - it makes me feel aligned again.






Another beautiful post, Kim.
When the crows start creating a ruckus I run to the window to see what's going on. Today they were chasing away a hawk. The other day an eagle.
My tiny thing is spending time studying seed catalogs. One of my favorite things about winter!
Lots of crows here in the neighborhood. When I hear a ruckus, it's always a large bird of prey they want to leave the area causing the caw caw caw! 😊 This was a nice read, thank you. My tiny thing is having a night of domestic chores. Listening the the washing machine churn. Having unpacked all the groceries I got for my parents tonight, I'm having a glass of wine and reading Substack.