Every now and then I venture onto social media to see what the world thinks about global issues. Once upon a time, the platforms seemed to provide a more honest sneak-peek behind the curtains of mainstream media and the way they chose to frame the news.
Now, in all honesty, I’m not convinced these platforms are unfiltered (or honest). My news “feed” sends me a steady stream of what IT wants me to consume… and more often than not, it’s a banquet of indigestion!
Regardless – while scrolling the other day, I came across a government employee in the USA saying; “this that and the other has happened, leaving critics eating crow.”
Huh.
I have never ever heard of the phrase “eating crow.”
[Mind you, I also hadn’t heard of plenty of other things I’ve since written about, including allodynia, ASMR and the ecotone.]
Eating crows sounds… disgusting.
And, in doing a quick google-search, that seems to be the point.
According to Wikipedia, “eating crow” is an idiom in several English-speaking countries and is the equivalent to “eating humble pie” or saying “I’ll eat my hat” if you’re wrong about something. To eat crow is to be humiliated into admitting something you have been especially vocal about, was in fact incorrect.
[Image source: Wikipedia]
Wikipedia explains that crows are scavengers, carrion-eaters, who were associated with eating bodies on battlefields. Since Medieval times onwards, crows, rats and vultures (or buzzards) were all tainted creatures. To be seen eating a crow would be an embarrassment no one would crow about.
[Interestingly, the collective noun for crows is “a murder of crows” also apparently due to their carrion-cravings…]
Wikipedia states that it was in the 1850s, in the USA, that the idiom probably gained traction in a short story about a group of urban tenants who outfox their smart-aleck farmer landlord by tricking him into eating a baked crow (stuffed with snuff).
To eat crow is as hard to swallow as being made to admit you were wrong.
For me, the idea of eating the eater, has an almost cannibalistic vibe to it.
At the risk of breaching a confidence, my husband was traumatized as a child while watching Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” (1963). This montage of movie-stills I collected online hints at why:
[Image source: google search]
[It didn’t escape my notice, that the last image is a little close to “eating crow”… or perhaps seagull… or pigeon…]
Putting all the blood and guts, horror and humiliation aside… here’s the interesting thing: eating a humble pie of crow need NOT be a bad thing.
In the context I read it online, the saying WAS intended as an insult to others, delivered with a vindictive “gotcha!” tone. But surely eating crow can ALSO be a sign of being openminded and mature enough to admit when you are wrong.
To eat crow is to grow.
When I went looking for more information on the idiom, I discovered this website: Eat Crow – Meaning & Usage Examples – Idiompedia
They seemed to agree with me, and whilst all their sample quotes were from “unknown” authors (which is always a little sketchy), their nine sample quotes all reflect the approach I’m advocating. For example:
“In moments of reflection, we find the strength to ‘eat crow,’ recognizing that it is a dish best served with a side of personal growth.” – Unknown
“I was wrong” are hard words to whisper, but even as you choke them out, don’t be tempted to hold them in… negativity is a poison.
To admit when we are wrong is always uncomfortable, but it need not be the devastating humiliation that others would wish for us.
*
And now, because this post is so short, a (very) short story to finish it off; an experimental piece of writing aligned with my Migraine Gothic moments…
*
In the darkness of her room, she clung to her blanket and scrunched it over her eyes to block out the shimmer-sliver that was forcing its way through curtain creases. The migraine pain washed over her in waves that aligned with her heartbeat, and to stifle her moans she pushed the blanket into her mouth and bit down on its velvet trim.
Her daughter, home from school, discovered the front door was locked. Unperturbed, she made her way around the side of the house, patted the dogs, and tried the laundry door. It swung open, and amidst a rush of fur, she made her way into the kitchen. On the counter, an unfinished meal of poultry sat, drenched in a congealed sauce that reminded the girl of blood. She tipped her head to one side to listen for her mother, and hearing nothing, wondered if she was sleeping again.
On tiptoes, she hummed the tune of “Sing a Song of Sixpence” and nudged past the dogs to make her way up to her mother’s room. Wedging the door open, just a crack, she glanced into the dark bedroom and was confused by what she saw; a body smothered in crows.
Although, of course it was not.
It was just her mother lying in bed, her black blanket folded upon her face, hiding her eyes and filling her mouth.
Somehow, the girl thought, this truth was worse.
*
Sending love and understanding to all who are in pain.
Know that no one is perfect, so don’t ever feel a burden to be anything more than who you are, and never feel ashamed of your mistakes.
Keep going and keep growing.
Take care taking care, Linda xx
i’m literally in mental tears at the thought. but to hear that it had a good effect on you is positive for me. i am up to three naproxen pills and i hate that it’s the measure i need to take for my headaches. but they can be so debilitating! 
The Mindful Migraine 
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