Feral Crow
A few weeks ago we came across an injured crow. Couldn’t fly. Some blood. Looked to be a broken wing. Perhaps hit by a car. Could have been anything. I was told about a local place that did bird rehab and the website said to keep it in a box. Long story short .. and after keeping the poor bird hostage for a long weekend, turns out the rescue place wouldn’t take crows. I’m sure there’s a story to spin there if I was a political strategist. But what it meant in real terms was I had a broken crow in my backyard. Which is apparently against the law, because it’s protected as a wild animal and you can’t keep them as “pets” nor can you “rehabilitate” an injured bird without a permit.
If I had money and means I would have taken the bird to a vet. If I had courage and detachment I would have called animal control to destroy it. Though admittedly after talking with the latter last month when a sick looking coyote was walking the streets and sleeping in the neighbors front lawn and they told me they can’t do anything about coyotes .. I had little faith that a crow would be high on their hit list. And who knows maybe the coyote would stumble upon the crow. But that’s another shaggy dog eat dog story.
As I pondered once upon a midnight dreary, I opened the little box and asked the injured crow what it wanted to do. I explained that the sanctuary where I had hoped it would be taken to was unavailable and asked if it wanted to die. It looked up at me with wide eyes that sternly said “NO! I do not want to die. Now let me go you foolish old lady.” So I tipped the injured animal out of the Amazon box and it ran to the side of my yard. The patio bunny was interested in the new visitor, but kept his distance as the crow hopped and hobbled its way across the row of fruit trees along the side wall. It wanted to fly up over the cinder blocks but the wing just wouldn’t work despite its cries. It ran back along the patio and over to the garage where it found a tiny crawl space in between some roof tile and old fence posts that were being saved for scrap wood. So I left it be, assuming nature would take its course and the poor fella would likely be dead by morning.
But morning came and went and still the crow was tucked away in its little crevasse by the side of the garage. I Google’d what to feed a wild crow and offered it some hard boiled egg which it readily ate the yolks only. And during the next few days I would bring the broken bird bits of chicken, steak, and some whole grain bread. Then I found some small cans of cat food in the back of a cupboard and which turned out to be the crow’s favorite feast.
It was more than a week, perhaps two when I noticed the crow was now routinely coming out from under the woodpile. When I approached one day with can in hand, it looked over its shoulder as if signaling for me to watch. Then it hopped up one of the beams until it was at the top near three feet high and with a big leap it jumped off the edge and fell down the ground. Undaunted by the crash landing the crow looked at me once again and ran back over and up the wooden post and tried to flap it’s wings again as it plunged into the air and splat down on to the hard pavement.
I smiled and reassured him that he was doing a great job. Though I doubted his wing would ever heal sufficiently to take flight. But the crow returned to it’s little nook which in hindsight I realize was keeping the wing isolated in place so that it could heal. And three cat food cans later the crow showed me its little dance up the post … but this time it soared down gently with open wings. Still no upward lift, but a gentle landing nonetheless.
I was hoping to get a video of the little black bird. But there are so many things that I’d like to do, I seem to lose track of most of them either from futility or that thought we have in the back of our mind there will always be time .. later. But the next day I went to deliver the fancy feast … I saw the crow was gone. No sign at all of the feathered guest. We checked around the whole yard and up and down the alley. There were no feathers, no sign of a struggle. It would appear that it left on its own intention.
That evening, when the streetwise sage was taking out the trash, he heard a loud CAW and he looked up and saw a black crow sitting on top of a telephone pole in front of our house. CAW CAW! The bird shouted as if to catch his attention. The bird teetered atop the pole and it was clear that one wing was dragging a bit lower than the body just as the one winged black dove. The streetwise sage smiled up at the bird who shouted again down at him. CAW! CAW! CAW!! And with that .. two other crows came and flew past heading south and down the way. The crow took a big jump off the top of the telephone totem and as it spread its wings it glided up into the air to join its crew.
It’s a wonderful story .. is it not?
I worried about the bird while it was with me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a plan. I was uncertain what would happen and not sure what I should be doing. But ultimately it wasn’t up to me to decide or to save the day. I simply provided a safe space where the healing can happen and then stood back and watched how the story would unfold. It’s not an easy thing to be with someone who is in pain. It breaks our heart when someone we love is hurting. We wish a sparkle band-aid and a kiss would make them all better. But sometimes all we can do is let them know we love them and that we’ll be there for as long as it takes or forever. Standing by someone through sickness and in health despite our own discomfort, ideals or fantasies that they should somehow be different and instead accepting that for now .. this is how things are. Giving up the idea that we know what’s best or that we should somehow try and fix their broken bits. And instead just sitting with them and providing a safe space where Grace and loving compassion fill all of the empty places.
