Clever Crow Cruiser

Clever Crow Cruiser – A Springtime Story

Crow set out with a plan. Not a rigid plan, of course—he wasn’t that kind of creature—but a loose intention: a long ride, a quiet clearing, and, ideally, something shiny. A coin, a bit of polished glass, maybe even a forgotten spoon. It didn’t need to be valuable—just something with a glint and a touch of mystery. He adjusted his fedora, straightened his jacket, and pedaled off into the cool hush of the forest.

He knew the usual spots where trinkets might turn up: near the trailhead, beneath the old oak with the hollow knot, along the edge of the stream where lost things sometimes surfaced. But today—nothing. Just soft leaves, damp moss, and a trail brushed with early spring light. Still, he kept riding. The breeze was pleasant, the forest quiet, and the trees whispered in a way he found... quite enjoyable.

Then he noticed the first flower—tiny, violet, and tilted just so toward the sun. Not shiny, but lovely. He paused. Picked it. Tucked it into his basket. For balance, he told himself. A few bends later, he added another. Then a white one. Then something with petals the color of dusk. He claimed he was curating a visual contrast. Something to offset the absence of treasure.

By the time he reached his favorite resting spot beneath a tall pine, his basket was full. No coins. No buttons. Just wildflowers, fragrant and quietly brilliant. He settled against the tree trunk, crossed one leg over the other, and studied the bouquet with a small, thoughtful smile. “Not what I came for,” he murmured. “But a fine find nonetheless.”

He hadn’t discovered any baubles, but he would still decorate the nest. Not with anything shiny—but with something rarer: beauty gathered by accident, not design. That, he decided, was the cleverest kind of treasure.