Cromwell and Jane stopped by our house almost every day. They were always hearty eaters but as time went by, they really began to pack the food in to take away with them.
Our Cromwell.
Hunh.
I had read that crows often bring little gifts to their human friends and one day I came onto the deck to find a small ‘super’ ball resting on the frame of the trellis where we fed them. I looked around before I picked it up. Nobody but Cromwell or Jane could have left it there. We were thrilled. That is, before the cleaning ladies knocked it out of a bowl, off the dining room table and onto the floor where the dogs destroyed it. How do you explain to a domestic worker from a poor country that such an insignificant thing is precious because a bird gave it to you?
Life with Cromwell went on. I was setting the deck table for two one evening and rolled the silverware up in napkins and set them by our places. I walked back into the kitchen and happened to look back to see Cromwell grab the edge of one of the napkins and give it a mighty shake. The silverware clattered over the tabletop and Cromwell hopped in, grabbing the (expensive) meat knife. He seemed surprised when I called out, ‘Hey you!’ and took off for parts unknown. He must have been a bit flustered because he dropped the knife into the yard before he cleared the fence.
He didn’t hold it against us, and soon after I found an unripe fig sitting on the trellis. It was elegant but definitely had a relatively short expiration date. All the same, we felt pleased that Cromwell had brought it to us.
The next surprise Cromwell and Jane brought us was the biggest one of all. We heard a lot of cawing going on out back and I noticed the electric wire was jumping around. Perry and I went out to see not one, not two, but five crows perched on the wire.
Oh, so that’s where the extra food was going ! Duh.
The fig Cromwell left for us.
Five bold, black, and beautiful crows were demanding breakfast.
Birds in the wild gain size rapidly and these babies were nearly as big as their parents.
We pulled together what we had and spread the feast before them. Of the three babies, one was a real pain in the arse, cawing constantly in a whiney way, making lots of noise and bouncing up and down. When he jumped the cafeteria line, Cromwell got in front of him, took the food right out of his beak and pushed him to the back of the line.
Another time, Cromwell actually knocked him completely off the perch, giving in to his annoyance and probably thinking, ‘Is this really one of mine?’
It quickly became clear that feeding five crows on a daily basis was not practical. In addition, these babies needed to learn how to forage on their own rather than belly up to an all you can eat buffet. So over the next week, we began to wean them all from the free food and soon enough they left. Unfortunately, Cromwell and Jane left with them. And never returned to my knowledge.
We’ve tried to make friends with other crows, some of whom might show up in a crowd for a peanut fest but aren’t interested in a long-term relationship. Our friendship with Cromwell and Jane was truly a unique experience, one that taught us much about how humans can interact with wild animals, and the rewards that interaction may bring.
Crows have a short lifespan, of seven to eight years. Our Cromwell may still be alive on the edge of old age.
Oh, how I miss him.
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