A Short Story About PTSD – and How I Became Friends With a Flock of Wild Crows

I never planned to become friends with wild crows.
In fact, I knew absolutely nothing about birds.
I didn’t study them.
I didn’t feed them.
I barely noticed them.

Until one ordinary day about four years ago — when something extraordinary happened.

Three crows walked up to me.

Not like birds just passing by.
Not like wild animals keeping their distance.
They approached… slowly… and stared.

There was something in their eyes — a strange recognition, as if they could see straight through me.
A curiosity that didn’t feel random.
As if they somehow knew that something inside me had broken.

At that time, I was fighting severe PTSD.
My mind was loud with static.
The world felt distant, meaningless, flat.
But the crows…
they broke through a silence no human voice had been able to reach.

They didn’t judge me.
They didn’t expect anything.
They were just there.

And over time, I began seeing them again and again.
They started trusting me — and I started trusting them.
They waited for me, followed me, and brought me small gifts:
a seashell… a shiny stone… a crab claw.

Day by day, the bond grew — and with it, something inside me began to heal.

Being with them taught me patience, presence, and a kind of calm no treatment had ever given me.
The crows reminded me that connection doesn’t always come from people —
sometimes it comes from nature itself, if you’re willing to listen.

I hope my story encourages you to step outside,
slow down,
and open your heart just a little.

Go out and meet your local crows.
They might surprise you — just like they surprised me.

Becoming their friend is one of the best things I’ve ever done…
and it helped me heal in ways most people will never fully understand.