I loved reading this. We did a neighborhood howl during covid. At 8pm every night people went outside and screamed. It was incredible. Once we were allowed to go out again, we stopped, but for a few months it was amazing.
This makes me think of all the funerals I've attended that were too quiet, eerily quiet. I'd say crows have a much more appropriate response to the loss.
I fully agree. I think we could all learn a great deal from our friends in the animal kingdom on that front. And yes, those too quiet funerals were a very particular kind of tragic. Thank you for reading, Jayne.
Beautiful. Ready to howl on cue at your direction. We did this at 8pm in Denver during covid for a period. Step outside and howl. Sometimes you could hear people howling all over town.
It seems like this was a thing in the US that I totally missed during lockdown, and I am thrilled that you guys did it. Thank you for the offer of the howl, my dear, greatly appreciated. Let’s suggest Howl Nights at the pub to Jill? 🐺❤️
I'd like to think there was a collective wave of noise and your thoughts of the howls made their way west, eventually manifesting themselves. Definitely, howl themes and howling every Tuesday at 8pm.
Well how kind of your harbinger to voice his acknowledgement outside your window near the end of your reading, Chloe ;) 🐦⬛🐦⬛🐦⬛ We had a murder which used to chase off hawks from their base in the gigantic redwoods in our yard.
Back when work meant a button-down collared shirt and tie, I lobbied to have our breast pockets officially repurposed as "screaming pockets" but after my first couple of trial runs, the idea was squashed. I agree there is a great need for some officially designated areas and/or times. 😱
I’m so glad you heard him! They’re quite something in their groups when they’re in pursuit of something.
Screaming pockets! You’re brilliant! Maybe one day we join forces, do a Kickstarter for Scream Rooms and Scream Pockets can be part of the merch... I do love the idea of a designated scream time, though (and I soon as I typed it I realized that that’s just what the serial killers want! 😱)
You're perfecting your kinds of howl, never fear. (And, among your reasons, thank you too Chloe for roping in your discomfort with "cages" of various kinds, including the showy hypocrisy of the uk government's choreographed pots, clanging for "essential workers.")
Stunningly done, Chloe, and so familiar. How easy it is to occasionally forget yourself, how ill-fitting the clapping felt against the relentless exhaustion of keyworkers; I can't scream, but I feel the rage and join you in quiet howling 💜
I loved this so much. One of my still open tabs from the summer is "how to befriend a crow". I have long (20+ years) had a relationship with owls and hearing them or dreaming of them preempting big changes in my life but it wasn't until a few years now that I started feeling akin to crows. During early Covid shelter in place in Portland, Oregon I was out walking in a neighborhood that was new-ish to me and as I turned up a street a crow landed on a power line above me and cawed quite loudly, seemingly looking at me. I saluted him (something an Irish friend told me to do when I see a single magpie) and kept walking. A few seconds later I felt something buzz my head, which I realized was the crow! He was now sitting on a fence and cawed at me. I looked at him for a moment and kept walking, turning up a different street, walking a bit faster. A few seconds later the crow flew in front of me cawing loudly. I was a little startled and then thought "he doesn't want me to walk this way". I said aloud "Ok - I will turn around. I hear you." He followed me for a bit...hopping from power line to roof top but no more buzzing my head or loud cawing. A few minutes later he was gone. I kept walking that way. I felt that the crow was protecting me from something. He was definitely herding me. I haven't thought about this again until I read your post today. Thank you for the memory and for letting me share it here.
I really wish for a crow friend.
I'm currently in Turin, Italy and have been missing crows as they don't seem to populate my neighborhood. I'm always on the lookout.
Michele, thank you for sharing your Crow encounter! They carry strong medicine, no doubt. We salute our Magpies here, too. This spring there was a Magpie who took a shine to David, and almost every morning, after David had left seeds in all the various spots we leave seeds for the Birds, we would watch this young Magpie quite carefully picking out a specific leaf or twig or some such, and he would leave it in the same place on the seed table. We’re certain it was gift. David kept each one as though it were. Corvids really are such magical beings. I hope you find one to befriend in Turin, soon!
Oct 31, 2023·edited Oct 31, 2023Liked by Chloe Hope
Thank you again for your beautiful post. I thanked Colu Henry for sharing it as I am so delighted to be connected to your beautiful substack. I love that you salute the magpies too and the story of the gift for David. So magical!
I used to volunteer at a wildlife shelter in Paradise Valley Arizona when I lived there for a short time and I worked in orphan care for the birds. I absolutely loved it. My favorite encounter was feeding a nightjar! The babies sound like they purr. But I loved them all. After my shift I would walk around and visit the permanent residents including several owls and golden eagles. I looked on your wildlife shelter link and saw a white badger pup! So incredible. Again, I am so delighted to be connected with you here.
You fed a Nightjar..?! Oh wow, that's so exciting. I've only ever seen one once in real life, and that was from quite a distance. Their mouths are HUGE, right? I love that the babies purr... I'm so happy to have you here, Michele (God bless Colu Henry!)
As other have said, this is a wonderful post. I also love and appreciate crows. I grew up seeing them on the farm, then watch them colonise seaside towns because they could outsmart the herring gulls. And here in Tokyo, the crows are huge and very vocal. One of them likes to caw what sounds like "baka! baka!", which means "idiot, idiot!" in Japanese. And, of course, I can't avoid the thought that the crow caws for me.
A scream space, what a fantastic and primal concept. But more importantly it needs to be a collective auditory scream to be communally effective. Nature and it’s creatures have so much to teach if only we pay attention.
Dear Chloe, I’ve so enjoyed discovering your writing on Substack, and, as others here have found, there are many personal resonances with your thoughtful, beautifully wrought words, and it’s hard not to jump up and down and respond to your posts with a written cry of “yes, me too, me too!” But as a newcomer on here it seemed a bit pushy to jump in there with nothing of my own posted yet; and yet, your howling has been echoing in my head since I read it last week. Eighteen or so years ago, I wrote a short story called “Planting and the Grace of Swans” in response to my father’s death - it’s about death and birds! His death was announced to me by passing swans (yes, really!) after some near-magic negotiations, and the tale includes howling! How could I wait any longer to share a slender connection with you?! Here’s the howling excerpt that is near the end. For context the story is framed by the act of planting a wild cherry tree in his memory, with me preparing the ground on my own on a grey late autumn day in the Somerset countryside, while doing a lot of soul searching and reminiscing of our intertwined lives; I think you’ll understand! Thank you for your inspiring pieces, and apologies if all this is too long ...
“The mood of calm and contentment I’d entered through the rhythm of digging and piling of turf and earth, alongside my observations of the landscapes around me, suddenly drained away and was replaced momentarily by a soaring vertigo, a sense of deep bewilderment, and then, like a blade through my body, the anguish of loss. I was so startled by this rapid sequence of emotions that I found myself physically reeling, stumbling with dizziness until I sat down heavily on the grass at the edge of my small crater and, from somewhere deep inside a howl escaped. I howled not in the way a child howls, but like an animal, a dog, or even a wolf; the sound must have carried a long way in that still November air.”
Liz, thank you so much for your kind words and enthusiasm! Please feel free to jump in whenever, absolutely no need to have any writing of your own anywhere. That said, I was going to ask if there was somewhere that I might read more of Planting and the Grace of Swans, because what you shared was so beautiful. I felt every word of it my bones. I’m sorry for the loss of your father. There’s something incredibly profound about digging while grieving. I know a small handful of people who have dug there own loved ones graves, and it has always been a hugely powerful ritual. The physical exertion seems to weaken any barrier that one might be holding against experiencing the true depth of one’s grief, somehow. I think there’s something about being in and with the earth in that way that allows it all. As I’m writing this I find myself in awe of nature, and her grace, yet again.
I'm most grateful for this response Chloe, it's very affirming for me and encouraging to get on and write more! I managed to lose 10 years in the dating - it was 28 years since I wrote this story! It's a bit clunky and rather personal so I've not made it public before, but I've just realised that it is so very pertinent to your role as an end of life doula that I hope you would find it of interest; I could send you a link and a password via your website's contact form if you would like to read it? It's nice to be here - thank you again!
I loved reading this. We did a neighborhood howl during covid. At 8pm every night people went outside and screamed. It was incredible. Once we were allowed to go out again, we stopped, but for a few months it was amazing.
You did?!! Oh my goodness, I need a new neighborhood. Thank you so much for sharing that, Deirdre
Beautiful. And a bit of corvid serendipity, as I sent mine out just before reading this.
The crows would appear to have their talons in us, Lev
We are powerless before them.
I read your two posts side by side just now. What a delight. It's never "just" a crow.
Never.
This makes me think of all the funerals I've attended that were too quiet, eerily quiet. I'd say crows have a much more appropriate response to the loss.
I fully agree. I think we could all learn a great deal from our friends in the animal kingdom on that front. And yes, those too quiet funerals were a very particular kind of tragic. Thank you for reading, Jayne.
Beautiful. Ready to howl on cue at your direction. We did this at 8pm in Denver during covid for a period. Step outside and howl. Sometimes you could hear people howling all over town.
Came here to relay this! Was it a weekly thing, I don’t recall.
Having a hard time remembering...I think it was every night for a bit. Kids loved it!
It seems like this was a thing in the US that I totally missed during lockdown, and I am thrilled that you guys did it. Thank you for the offer of the howl, my dear, greatly appreciated. Let’s suggest Howl Nights at the pub to Jill? 🐺❤️
I'd like to think there was a collective wave of noise and your thoughts of the howls made their way west, eventually manifesting themselves. Definitely, howl themes and howling every Tuesday at 8pm.
Howling Tuesdays, that's the dream...
My friend the poet Brice Maiurro I think had a hand in this, if I’m not mistaken.
Well how kind of your harbinger to voice his acknowledgement outside your window near the end of your reading, Chloe ;) 🐦⬛🐦⬛🐦⬛ We had a murder which used to chase off hawks from their base in the gigantic redwoods in our yard.
Back when work meant a button-down collared shirt and tie, I lobbied to have our breast pockets officially repurposed as "screaming pockets" but after my first couple of trial runs, the idea was squashed. I agree there is a great need for some officially designated areas and/or times. 😱
I’m so glad you heard him! They’re quite something in their groups when they’re in pursuit of something.
Screaming pockets! You’re brilliant! Maybe one day we join forces, do a Kickstarter for Scream Rooms and Scream Pockets can be part of the merch... I do love the idea of a designated scream time, though (and I soon as I typed it I realized that that’s just what the serial killers want! 😱)
🤣🤣🤣 they ARE taking notes - we're sitting ducks🦆💚🦆 i've never done a kickstarter but this idea has chops 😘
You're perfecting your kinds of howl, never fear. (And, among your reasons, thank you too Chloe for roping in your discomfort with "cages" of various kinds, including the showy hypocrisy of the uk government's choreographed pots, clanging for "essential workers.")
Thank you for that, Kenneth. I very much like the idea that I’m working on my howl...
Stunningly done, Chloe, and so familiar. How easy it is to occasionally forget yourself, how ill-fitting the clapping felt against the relentless exhaustion of keyworkers; I can't scream, but I feel the rage and join you in quiet howling 💜
Quietly howling with you in solidarity, Mya 🐺💗
Oh gosh, that final paragraph. Same 💕
🐺♥️🪶
This was a wonderful piece of writing. Really enjoyed it. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Kate.
I loved this so much. One of my still open tabs from the summer is "how to befriend a crow". I have long (20+ years) had a relationship with owls and hearing them or dreaming of them preempting big changes in my life but it wasn't until a few years now that I started feeling akin to crows. During early Covid shelter in place in Portland, Oregon I was out walking in a neighborhood that was new-ish to me and as I turned up a street a crow landed on a power line above me and cawed quite loudly, seemingly looking at me. I saluted him (something an Irish friend told me to do when I see a single magpie) and kept walking. A few seconds later I felt something buzz my head, which I realized was the crow! He was now sitting on a fence and cawed at me. I looked at him for a moment and kept walking, turning up a different street, walking a bit faster. A few seconds later the crow flew in front of me cawing loudly. I was a little startled and then thought "he doesn't want me to walk this way". I said aloud "Ok - I will turn around. I hear you." He followed me for a bit...hopping from power line to roof top but no more buzzing my head or loud cawing. A few minutes later he was gone. I kept walking that way. I felt that the crow was protecting me from something. He was definitely herding me. I haven't thought about this again until I read your post today. Thank you for the memory and for letting me share it here.
I really wish for a crow friend.
I'm currently in Turin, Italy and have been missing crows as they don't seem to populate my neighborhood. I'm always on the lookout.
Michele, thank you for sharing your Crow encounter! They carry strong medicine, no doubt. We salute our Magpies here, too. This spring there was a Magpie who took a shine to David, and almost every morning, after David had left seeds in all the various spots we leave seeds for the Birds, we would watch this young Magpie quite carefully picking out a specific leaf or twig or some such, and he would leave it in the same place on the seed table. We’re certain it was gift. David kept each one as though it were. Corvids really are such magical beings. I hope you find one to befriend in Turin, soon!
Thank you again for your beautiful post. I thanked Colu Henry for sharing it as I am so delighted to be connected to your beautiful substack. I love that you salute the magpies too and the story of the gift for David. So magical!
I used to volunteer at a wildlife shelter in Paradise Valley Arizona when I lived there for a short time and I worked in orphan care for the birds. I absolutely loved it. My favorite encounter was feeding a nightjar! The babies sound like they purr. But I loved them all. After my shift I would walk around and visit the permanent residents including several owls and golden eagles. I looked on your wildlife shelter link and saw a white badger pup! So incredible. Again, I am so delighted to be connected with you here.
You fed a Nightjar..?! Oh wow, that's so exciting. I've only ever seen one once in real life, and that was from quite a distance. Their mouths are HUGE, right? I love that the babies purr... I'm so happy to have you here, Michele (God bless Colu Henry!)
One of the highlights of my life, honestly, working with those babies. I need to visit your area/shelter. I am also obsessed with badgers.
So happy to be here. Thank you Chloe.
Just message me any time you’re near, I’ll give you a tour.
Oh my goodness - need to make this happen!
The way you think and the way you write moves me deeply. Thank you.
Avis, thank you. I am deeply moved by your comment.
As other have said, this is a wonderful post. I also love and appreciate crows. I grew up seeing them on the farm, then watch them colonise seaside towns because they could outsmart the herring gulls. And here in Tokyo, the crows are huge and very vocal. One of them likes to caw what sounds like "baka! baka!", which means "idiot, idiot!" in Japanese. And, of course, I can't avoid the thought that the crow caws for me.
Haha, that’s fantastic! Our Crows definitely have a fairly superior air about them. I certainly wouldn’t want to fall over in front of them.
A scream space, what a fantastic and primal concept. But more importantly it needs to be a collective auditory scream to be communally effective. Nature and it’s creatures have so much to teach if only we pay attention.
Wonderful writing.
Yes, so, so much to teach! Thank you for reading, Michelle.
And David? He arrived home unscathed, I hope? Such a magical, lyrical story Chloe. Thank you.
He did! Thank you, Sharron ❤️ I forget that not everyone knows the story - he speaks about here, if you find yourself interested https://open.substack.com/pub/fieldd/p/the-heart-of-an-eclipse-part-two?r=1r9hah&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post
Achingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for reading, Sydney
Dear Chloe, I’ve so enjoyed discovering your writing on Substack, and, as others here have found, there are many personal resonances with your thoughtful, beautifully wrought words, and it’s hard not to jump up and down and respond to your posts with a written cry of “yes, me too, me too!” But as a newcomer on here it seemed a bit pushy to jump in there with nothing of my own posted yet; and yet, your howling has been echoing in my head since I read it last week. Eighteen or so years ago, I wrote a short story called “Planting and the Grace of Swans” in response to my father’s death - it’s about death and birds! His death was announced to me by passing swans (yes, really!) after some near-magic negotiations, and the tale includes howling! How could I wait any longer to share a slender connection with you?! Here’s the howling excerpt that is near the end. For context the story is framed by the act of planting a wild cherry tree in his memory, with me preparing the ground on my own on a grey late autumn day in the Somerset countryside, while doing a lot of soul searching and reminiscing of our intertwined lives; I think you’ll understand! Thank you for your inspiring pieces, and apologies if all this is too long ...
“The mood of calm and contentment I’d entered through the rhythm of digging and piling of turf and earth, alongside my observations of the landscapes around me, suddenly drained away and was replaced momentarily by a soaring vertigo, a sense of deep bewilderment, and then, like a blade through my body, the anguish of loss. I was so startled by this rapid sequence of emotions that I found myself physically reeling, stumbling with dizziness until I sat down heavily on the grass at the edge of my small crater and, from somewhere deep inside a howl escaped. I howled not in the way a child howls, but like an animal, a dog, or even a wolf; the sound must have carried a long way in that still November air.”
Liz, thank you so much for your kind words and enthusiasm! Please feel free to jump in whenever, absolutely no need to have any writing of your own anywhere. That said, I was going to ask if there was somewhere that I might read more of Planting and the Grace of Swans, because what you shared was so beautiful. I felt every word of it my bones. I’m sorry for the loss of your father. There’s something incredibly profound about digging while grieving. I know a small handful of people who have dug there own loved ones graves, and it has always been a hugely powerful ritual. The physical exertion seems to weaken any barrier that one might be holding against experiencing the true depth of one’s grief, somehow. I think there’s something about being in and with the earth in that way that allows it all. As I’m writing this I find myself in awe of nature, and her grace, yet again.
So happy to have you here, Liz. Thank you.
I'm most grateful for this response Chloe, it's very affirming for me and encouraging to get on and write more! I managed to lose 10 years in the dating - it was 28 years since I wrote this story! It's a bit clunky and rather personal so I've not made it public before, but I've just realised that it is so very pertinent to your role as an end of life doula that I hope you would find it of interest; I could send you a link and a password via your website's contact form if you would like to read it? It's nice to be here - thank you again!
I would love that, Liz, thank you so much for offering to share it. Just email me directly at chloe@liminalcompanion.com ❤️
Done!