Crow Crap

Yesterday, I was all tied up in knots thanks to the kitten fiasco of the morning. This morning, therefore, I was relieved to see the kittens unharmed and gambolling about the yard. Nothing untoward had befallen them. Phew.

But. There was a crow, who was looking rather worse for wear. Sigh.

Some time last month, I saw two gargantuan black crows, bigger than the normal ones, fighting each other in the yard. They were at it hammer and tongs, and flew up between bouts. I thought nothing of it, since well, that’s nature after all.

Then last week, I saw one of the crows walking around in the yard. He [assumption] had settled in a pile of leaves, under a tree and was clearly hiding. There was nothing visibly wrong with the guy, but I reckon he couldn’t fly long distances. The other crow came to pick a fight a couple of times, but the grounded crow held his ground. Again, did not interfere. I later saw him walking alongside the trees and the wall, and later he flew up to perch on the wall. So he could fly, but not too much.

Today though. Different story.

I was taking a breather from my walk, and I saw a bedraggled big black crow come around the corner of the building on foot. He waddled towards me, so I made a short noise to alert him of my living, breathing presence. He stopped to look at me, and took a few steps closer, before trundling off to the wall.

I am guessing this is the same slightly wounded crow from before, and I was sorry to see his awful state. He huddled behind a tree, trying to look as small as possible I guess.

Soon though, I saw another big black crow standing in front of him. The wounded crow wasn’t the new crow’s immediate priority, as a human [me] was walking back and forth, and presented a potential threat. The new crow cocked his head and me, and observed my perambulations for a solid 2 minutes before deciding I was not about to pounce on him.

And then he turned on the wounded crow. Pecked at him, while raucously crying out. The other crow tried to defend himself, but was rather piteously objecting. I wasn’t far off, so I ran towards this scene of violence, and clapped hard to chase away the attacker. He flew up into the boughs of a nearby tree, and glared at me. The wounded crow huddled into a smaller pile than before and looked at me in fear.

I sighed, because what can I possibly do? I have no place to succour a wounded wild bird, nor do I have a vet on call. I don’t have any experience with treating birds either. The crow is clearly on his way out of this mortal coil, and I can only hope that his exit is as painless as possible.

That’s the second time I have had to intervene in animal matters in two days. I am sensing a pattern. I am not thrilled, because it leaves me feeling very dispirited and helpless.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.


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