Crow's Heart

No, it's not true. Well no, that part is true, the murder. But you said I was insane, that's not true.

There was a reason for my actions, and I'll explain them to you, but you have to hear me out first. Without judgment! And keep an open mind and for God's sake, don't call me insane again!

Stop it! I saw that eye roll! I asked you to listen.

...

What's this? I'm not talking anymore? No, why would I? You're not giving me a chance to tell my side. Oh, you're willing to listen now? Yeah? Okay...

So, okay, this started a few days ago. I worked as a sandwich clerk, but I don't have a car, so I need to walk to and from work each day. On my way back one day, I saw an injured crow.

It was cawing around for his parents, I could see them on the tree above. And it wasn't a tiny baby crow than fell from the nest by the way. It was an adult - adolescent I guess. If it had been the case, this story would have been simple. Pluck it back in the nest, done. It's a big myth that the parents reject their offspring if it is touched by a human. I'm not an animal specialist, but I like to think I have a good understanding of their behavior.

I digress. The crow's wing was crooked, out of its socket. As I said, I'm not some kind of vet, but it's not supposed to fold that way. Now, I know that you're not supposed to pick up a wounded animal, especially not a bird because of the whole avian flu thing. But, as I said, I could see it was a wound and not a disease. And the poor thing was pathetic.

I live in the neighborhood, I know that cats prowled at night. I did what a sane person would do, someone with a good heart. I carried it home to keep it safe.

Its parents went nuts, they cawed and beck-bashed the trees. I told them I was gonna take it to a rehabilitation center. It was useless to explain it to the birds, but it made me feel better. Crows are said to be intelligent. And trust me, they really are. And relentless. I'll get to that later.

At home, I called the center, told them all I just told you right now. Confirmed with them it wasn't a baby, its wing was bent, etc. They instructed me on what I could feed it, and how to give it some water, yadda, yadda and see if it would take flight the next morning. I held my tongue, agreeing to their procedure. It was kind of stupid to see if he could fly tomorrow... But it was already past five and their main vet had left, so the night custodian wouldn't have been able to help in any case.

Morning came and I opened the box I had confined it in and when the sun shone on the birdie, it gave a pitiful chirp saying "my wing's broken."

Metaphorically! I didn't literally hear it say that. I know they can't talk. Well, some can mimic, but it's beside the point. Stop judging me. I simply meant that I felt like I understood what it was trying to convey.

When it was obvious that birdo couldn't leave, I called the center telling them I was on my way to bring him in. As I left, I heard distant cawing in the trees. Had the parents stayed nearby the whole night? Yes, they did. At that time, I thought it had been cute how much they cared. I waved them off, telling them something along the lines of: "hey, guys, I'm bringing him to a doctor. They'll make him alright. I'm not hurting your baby."

Of course, they didn't understand me. They gave me angry caws as replies, while their black eyes drilled into me uncomfortably. I tried to ignore the goose pimple climbing up my arms, but it was getting hard because each time I lost sight of them, they would fly in front of me to keep watch.

I was so glad when my trek to the center was over, that the first thing I did was to close the blind.

Yeah, I admit, it must have looked weird to the clerk, but to be out of sight of those beady little eyes made me feel immensely safer.