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Releasing the Kraken 71 Aunt Eloe Schools the Scarecrow Matthew Hittinger As the crow flies, you say? Come now you god of the crossroads, I’m talking ravens here. Corvids are corvids, yes, but like a dog compared to a wolf you can’t call a crow a raven and have the word “nevermore” mean the same thing. Now, two facts: ravens mate for life, but this raven, let’s call him Caw the raven husband, he lived with the wolf wife Howl. You didn’t hear? It was the lead post on “Fuck You Penguin” during interspecies week. Anyway, Caw and Howl hunt together: Caw scopes, Howl clamps, bloody beak and talon after tooth and claw. They have lived like this for ages: after the flood it was not the dove but the white raven (Apollo later turned his feathers black) who found the wolf and helped found Rome. Go back before these stories were writ before your tar and straw and wood and you’ll find Caw loved Howl even then, there where their forms had yet to settle into fur and feather. Why do I tell you this? Next time you measure say corn husk doppelgänger pumpkin shell twin. Point left, howl. Right, caw. Sing tin, wind, spin. ...

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