A Year for the Crows
On creativity, community, and a couvillion
Hi friends! Happy New Year, to those who celebrate.
It’s been a while since I last sat down to write, but as I claw my way out of an extended season of burnout, I’m revisiting my inspirations and reclaiming some creative spaces, including this one. Here’s a little peek into life lately, plus an invite.
Shortly after Rémy and I moved to Broadmoor last year, we met the neighborhood crows. There were several that hung around our old place in Central City, but nothing compared to the group over here—we’ve watched a couple dozen gather all at once in the trees that line the neutral ground along Napoleon Avenue, and they’re around/overhead all day, every day. I’ve been corvid-curious for a while, so I started feeding them last summer in hopes that we’d become friends…and maybe they’d bring me trinkets. A couple of chewed-up pieces of fruit have made their way onto the porch railing, but so far, that’s it for the gifts.
Initially, I had to set food out and then retreat into the shadows of the kitchen to watch them swoop in. Before long, they’d let me come to the window, and over time, a couple have even let me step out onto the porch while they stuff their beaks. If they’re flying within eyesight of the backyard, I can signal for them to come eat, and there’s one crow that’s comfortable enough to come around and squawk until I set out something just for him. I call that one Timothée.
I’ve posted a few photos and videos of this journey to Instagram stories. What I’ve found more surprising than the birds themselves is the community of folks who are on their own corvid journey—and even more who say they want to be on one. It’s such a random collection of friends and internet strangers, and a delightful reminder that social media can be more than trolls and doom scrolling (okay, it’s still mostly those things).
I’m currently trying to acclimate the birds to a studio strobe light so that I can play with portraits—follow along on Instagram if that’s of interest. I daydream of having one ride on Buddy Lee’s back as we stroll through the neighborhood on our daily walk; I know it’s not a reasonable expectation, but it’s good to cling to a thread of hope sometimes.
The Invite: Cookbook Club!
Speaking of community: Rémy and I recently started a cookbook club; a monthly potluck where everyone cooks from the same book(s). The first couple of dinners were loosely themed—“Classic Louisiana Cookbooks” and “Holiday Dreams”—but we’re getting more specific starting later this month, digging into vibrant flavors from Yotam Ottolenghi. Dinner is on Sunday, January 26. If you’d like to join us, shoot me an email for more info!
Bayou Bienvenue Couvillion
When I moved to New Orleans in 2018, I brought with me my grandfather’s fiberglass pirogue. I used that to re-learn how to fish, and specifically to learn how to fish South Louisiana. I became obsessed and quickly upgraded to a fancy fishing kayak, then to the 60 year-old aluminum jon boat in which the same grandfather used to take me out on Caddo Lake as a young kid. I recently traded that for a much bigger boat—one that doesn’t leak, but also one that’s set up for more serious fishing and exploration with friends.
Over the holidays, I got to take my brother out, and we loaded the ice chest with speckled trout, sheepshead, catfish, and black drum—a perfect mix for couvillion. Rémy and I love the recipe Isaac Toups shares in Chasing the Gator, so that’s what I made, using shrimp stock Rémy had tucked in the freezer, and adding some large Gulf shrimp from Porgy’s. All topped with homemade buttermilk hushpuppies, because I was feeling fancy.
From NOLA, with Love
Emotions are very mixed in New Orleans right now: Grief over the attack on Bourbon Street alongside anger at the incompetence of political leaders, all swirling around excitement for Mardi Gras season and a collective resolve to support community members and local businesses affected by this tragedy. We’re told that we can’t give into fear, which is mostly code for “we need those tourism dollars,” and while we’ve collectively proven ourselves capable of holding space for both joy and sorrow, that’s not something that should be expected of us.
Many resources have been shared on social media, along with countless reflections on what happened and what it means to be called “resilient”—examples here, here, and here. Greater New Orleans Foundation has set up a fund for those looking to make a donation, and WeHelp NOLA has compiled a list of no-cost services for those in need of counseling. Please be kind out there, on the parade routes and off, and please continue to support your favorite local businesses, especially those in the French Quarter.
Thanks for reading, y’all. I hope to see you again soon—in the meantime, I’d love to hear what’s inspiring you, and what spaces you’re reclaiming.
- James
