Crow’s Feet are Good, Actually

These wrinkles remind me that I’ve survived long enough to age.

Graphic by author.

I love crows. You look into their beady little eyes and know: that is an animal that’s got its priorities sorted. Crows can be fearsome parents, love to socialize, remember those who wronged them, apparently despise cars as much as I do, investigate the deaths of their fellow crows, and they’ve got a statue dedicated to their love of fries. They make tools, have an appreciation for shiny objects, and hang out in the H-E-B parking lot. Crows soar through modern fantasy novels and ancient mythology alike, where they are alternatively bad omens and loyal friends.

Suffice to say, we’ve amassed many references to crows as a society. You can measure the quickest path between two objects as the crow flies, brag about your accomplishments by crowing, and if you have a sore throat you’re probably as hoarse as a crow. The one that sticks out the most to me is crow’s feet — the wrinkles at the edge of your eyes that splay out like the forked toes of a crow.

I don’t remember when or where I first learned the term. But one day in college I looked in my dingy dormitory-supplied mirror and noticed that these dramatically-named wrinkles had formed on my own face. Panic superseded rational thought as I wondered if my skincare routine was too inadequate…