We found a crow around the corner from where we live. Actually, Piper found it. We were walking and she spotted it, and put on all the stops as she is wont to do occasionally. I turned to look at what was holding her up (it’s usually an irresistible scent of some kind) but it was a black lump in the grass. Upon closer inspection, that black lump turned out to be a crow, galumping awkwardly across someone’s front lawn, unable to fly.
We decided that the crow needed our help. I hesitated (let’s be honest, I didn’t really want to touch it) and we attempted the animal rescue thing when the girls were small so I had a small feeling it wasn’t going to go well.
The three of us found a cardboard box at home, a big towel, and a pair of two work gloves (which I later discovered were two lefties) and set out to perform what would surely be a very admirable rescue.
I was steeling myself for the moment I had to pick the thing up. Would it attack me?
We were marching down our residential street when we heard a car pull up behind us. It was Mark, thankgod, returning from a golf game.
“YOU’RE JUST IN TIME,” I said. “You are going to save a crow.” I said, opening the door and practically shoving the kids inside.
We found the bird hunkered down beside a tree. Mark picked him up (yay!) and put him in the box, and covered it with the big beach towel. We were going to leave him out on the veranda but it was actually pretty chilly out there, so we brought him into the downstairs bathroom and put a bit of dry dog food inside the box with him along with a dish of water. And then we thought about what to do with him. The Wild Bird Centre was closed for the night. I was pretty sure they have a drop box but this seemed a little cruel to do to Kenwood (who, by now, had a name, although it started out as Philippe) so we just hoped he would be warm and comfortable in his banana box. Our trip to the WBCC would have to wait.
Piper woke me up at 4:00 the next morning, which is very unusual for her. I took her out and then went back to bed. But I couldn’t sleep knowing there was a crow in the bathroom, possibly dead. So I mustered up the courage to go check on him myself. I lifted up the corner of the towel and found two black blinking eyes – very much alive – staring back at me. Good news.
In the morning Mark helped us get Kenwood back in the box. The little guy was pretty weak. There’d be no poking anyone’s eyes out here:
We gathered our things and drove out to the WBCC. The lady there took Kenwood right away and put him in an incubator. The process only took a few minutes. We told her everything we knew and filled out a short form and received a number so we could call and check up on him. (Which we haven’t done yet. Maybe later today.) We left a small donation and went on our merry way. Then I realized we parked in the wrong spot.
As a sidebar, I would like to mention that the Wild Bird Care Centre has over 3,500 birds a year pass through its doors. They do a lot of fantastic work with very little. And they need donations; cash and Canadian Tire money, but also many other things including dog food and bird seed and paper towels. Just so you know.
So that’s the story of Kenwood! I hope he’s doing ok now. And I think if I had to pick up a crow by myself I could do it now. I think.
