The Crows are Counting

Crows generally are credited with having the ability to count up to four or five.  A crow's counting, however, is not precisely the same as that of, say, an investment banker's, and falls more into the realm of 'feelings' and 'intuition,' instead of actual tallying.  If, for example, a crow witnesses three hunters entering a wooded area, the crow will steer well clear of the woods until three hunters are seen leaving again.  The same holds true to a count of four or five hunters.  But beyond a count of five, crows appear to lose all numerical sensibilities and can be fooled into entering the woods when lesser than the full number of hunters that entered the woods leave again.

This sort of intuitive counting lends itself well to the idea that mathematics was not invented by man, but, instead, was included in nature's initial cornucopia of wonders. Under this clearly directional light, most achievements we tend to credit ourselves with inventing become mere discoveries

In a sense, the simple crow knocks a leg out from under us.

Still, the belief that mathematics transcends—in fact, wholly founds—our existence further excites some scientists into thinking we may yet uncover a theory for explaining everything, a great and encompassing formula that, when applied, can account for absolutely everything.  Imagine a formula that ties together all things—from the fantastic cling and twirl of atomic particles, right up through the migration of blue whales, but still leaves room enough to explain why your cat's breath smells like his ass (though, actually, that can be explained easily enough with a little observation on your part.)

The assumption here is, for those needing to stow things in boxes, that God is a mathematician more than magician.

So much needs explaining.

How did bees come by such complex social behavior?  Why are sharks so singular?  Why sex?  Why do birds fly against my windows?  Will we crunch numbers until we discover a creator?  Evolution?  Or will the falling numbers land someplace between the two extremes?

I like to think about the questions, but wonder if we'll be any happier finding all the answers.  What then?  What beyond the formula that explains everything?  I sometimes think that total understanding is equivalent to total annihilation—a sort of killing frost that makes brown summer's green grasses.  I sometimes imagine total understanding exactly that way, and I hear from the porcelain branches bare trees the cawing of crows as they count down from as high as they can go.

--Mitchell Hegman