Why the Crow Is Black

Why the Crow Is Black

Long ago, according to an old Filipino tale, crows looked very different from the birds we know today. Their feathers shone like gold. When they flew from tree to tree, they looked like little sunbeams flashing between the branches. Their voices were clear and musical. Those golden crows lived in the gardens of Sinukuan, ruler of a magical land. Fragrant flowers filled the gardens. Heavy fruit bent the branches, and morning dew sparkled on every leaf. Sinukuan loved birdsong, especially the voices of two young crows who often perched in a large tree near his home. “Sing again,” he would ask. The crows sang so sweetly that even the wind seemed to become quiet for a moment. One year difficult times came to the land. Many animals became unwell, and the forest grew strangely quiet. Some rested in their burrows, others hid beneath leaves, and some simply lacked the energy to come into the sun. Sinukuan went from clearing to clearing helping wherever he could. Before leaving one morning, he called the two golden crows. “Stay nearby,” he said. “When I return, I will want to hear your song. And if anyone in the garden needs help, call loudly so someone will hear.” “We will wait,” promised the crows. One day passed. Then another. At first the crows stayed faithfully in the garden. Then one said, “Do we really have to sit in one place the whole time? Let us fly over the hill and look around.” “Only for a little while,” the other agreed. They flew away. Beyond the hill they found a place filled with interesting scraps and food left after rough weather. Instead of returning, the crows became completely absorbed and forgot their promise. Meanwhile, Sinukuan came home tired after a long day helping his people. “Where are my golden crows?” he asked. No one knew. He waited. The sun dropped lower. Evening insects began to sing. Still the crows did not return. So Sinukuan went looking. He did not need to search long. Beyond the hill, he found the two birds so busy that they had not even noticed him. “There you are,” he said quietly. The crows jumped. At once they remembered their promise. “We only meant to leave for a minute,” one muttered. “And then we forgot to come back,” the other admitted honestly. Sinukuan was saddened. “I asked you for something simple: stay where you might be needed. A beautiful voice and shining feathers are wonderful gifts, but a gift becomes truly valuable when it is used responsibly.” He stretched out his hand. The golden glow on their feathers began to fade. First their wings became dark gray. Then black, like the night sky. Their clear song changed too. “Caw!” The crows stared at each other. “Will we always look like this?” “Your appearance has changed,” Sinukuan said. “Let it remind you of this day. But do not imagine that black feathers make you less beautiful. Look carefully.” Sunlight touched their wings. Blue, green, and violet colors shimmered across the black plumage like pieces of the evening sky. The crows spread their feathers in surprise. “And our voices?” Sinukuan smiled. “Now you can be heard from far away. Think carefully about what you use that voice for.” From then on, the old tale says, crows wore black feathers and called with their strong “caw.” And when sunlight falls on a crow's wing, blue, green, and violet may still appear. Perhaps that is a tiny memory of the days when crows were golden. Or perhaps it is a reminder that outward glitter is not the most important thing. Keeping your promises and returning when someone is counting on you matter far more.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨