There once was a murder of crows that subsisted on a farmer's harvest. Ever since the tenancy of the farmer's father's father's father, the crows had helped themselves to the crop, and the farmer and his kin had tried to drive them away. They threw rocks. They devised traps to ensnare the crows, and upset their nests wherever they found them. But the crows were not greedy -- they only took what they needed to live. Still, they had no way to relate this to the farmer and his sons, because they spoke a different language.

Finally, after many years had passed, the crows had the idea of creating a man! This Messenger they constructed would be able to communicate with the farmer -- since he would be a man, too, and would speak the language of men -- and there would be no further need for violence.

They started with the clothes. The crows had observed how the farmer and his sons covered their bodies with cotton and wool, rather than depart for a warmer climate -- so they found a derelict pair of pants and a man's work shirt, and they dressed the Messenger. They brought together a right boot and a left boot -- since the farmer's feet never seemed to leave the ground -- and affixed a wide, floppy hat. And finally they stuffed the Messenger's body with corncobs and feathers, until he had become corporeal.

They molded his face out of clay -- with a nose not unlike a beak -- and shaped his ears from horse manure. And when they had finished crafting his body, the crows prayed to the good lord above to grant the Messenger life. After laying down for one night between the rows of corn, he awoke in the morning and departed for the farmer's homestead.

It was the eldest son who spotted him first, wearing the same shirt he'd discarded the previous season, now expertly mended. He was joined on the porch by one of his brothers, who espied the Messenger's boots and felt a stab of jealousy, since his own shoes pinched at the heels. Finally, the third brother declared he didn’t like the way the Messenger smelled. He was a bad seed, this third son, who didn't need any particular reason for violence.

So, before the Messenger could hail them, the farmer's sons had pelted him with rocks. They'd decided amongst themselves that their father -- by some evil sorcery -- had conjured up a fourth, favored son, and they'd already conspired to murder him. Thus, after the Messenger had fallen, they dragged him deep between the rows of corn, where they crucified him.

He would persist for three days on the cross. The murder of crows -- unable to free him, and afraid of further reprisal -- kept a vigil. They perched on his arms and his shoulders, and told him stories from when the world was young. On the fourth day, the good and merciful lord reclaimed the life he had bestowed, and the murder of crows flew away -- and the Messenger remains standing in the field to this day.