Nevermore
What the hell was that? Stretch, fart, sit up and check the time. One twenty-nine. Shit. Vague fragments of what must have been a really good dream slip quietly away…
“Squawk!”
So damn loud I jump.
“Jesus!”
I look out on the terrace and, perched right there on the railing is, what… a crow? I often get finches, pigeons, even woodpeckers coming to the feeder; but never crows, and never at one in the morning. Stand up slowly and walk to the terrace door. She’s watching me, I think. I don’t know why I think she’s a she, but I do.
I open the door very slowly. It’s February and I’m in boxers and a T-shirt. Still, I open it all the way and she hops to her left, closer to the door, and blinks. She has a kind of gleam in her eye. I feel a laugh trying to come up, but stifle it so as not to frighten her off.
“Hi.”, I say, fully expecting her to say hi back and I’m really having trouble holding back that laugh. She hops to her left again, and blinks. I take that as a hi. Then she bobs her head twice and squawks. A chuckle comes out; I can’t help it. This crazy bird, what does she want? Food maybe?
I hear them squawking up in the trees all the time. They have a really substantial beak, but not enough to open walnuts, so they carry them up into the trees and drop them on the street to crack them open. Pretty smart.
“Hey, I’m freezing, you wanna come in?”, I ask. Seems natural enough. And she does it again, bobs her head twice, and I start to get a little spooked.
I can see now that she is definitely a crow, nearly jet black. She hops down on the terrace floor, picks at her wing, and then fluffs and shakes out. I stand back out of the way and she doesn’t hesitate, just hops right in. I laugh out loud, she jumps, squawks and flaps her wings, then looks up at me.
“Sorry.”, I tell her, “You hungry or something?”
If she does that double bob again I know I’m gonna lose it, and, of course, she does. I crack up, but she doesn’t jump this time, just looks at me and smiles. Okay, crows don’t smile, but I don’t know what else to call it. I close the terrace door and put some sunflower seeds on the floor but she shows no interest. I have no nuts so head for the kitchen, grab some bits of bread, a chunk of cheese, a small piece of sausage and some cheerios. I turn to go back and there she is on the kitchen floor. I jump, she jumps and gives me that look again.
I put the stuff in separate little piles on a plastic plate.
“Here you go; not sure what you like.”
She goes straight for the cheerios. I snort, she flaps, and then polishes off about a dozen cheerios plus the sausage; leaves the other stuff.
I put a little water down for her, she says no thanks and hops back to the living room and, with a single hop and two flaps she’s up to my clothes dryer, which is nothing more than a pole above the radiator. She perches on my towel, picks under her wing, fluffs and poops on the radiator.
“I don’t know what you want.”
Feeling like a complete idiot, I cannot believe I am actually going to ask what I’m about to ask.
“Can you understand me?”
She does the double bob and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is too spooky. I have to sit down. I’m thinking, obviously this is somebody’s pet, and very well trained at that, but at the same time I’m thinking some serious paranormal stuff. I’m certain, on the one hand, that the bobbing is just coincidence and I’m reading into it what I want it to be, but still…
Hey, she’s not looking at me anymore. In fact, her eyes are closed. Do crows sleep? I guess they must. So, I slip out to the kitchen again to make myself some coffee and a peebeejay. What the hell, awake now anyway, may as well see what I can Wiki about crows.