Damas
A Crow Story ...with a Happy Ending!
From May through July, I get a plethora of e-mails from folks
who've suddenly found themselves
caretakers of a baby crow. They all have a common theme - their lives are
never the same!
Here is one such letter:
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"I have had a very positive experience with raising a baby crow.
The family "wolf",
actually a Husky/Wolf hybrid, brought the shrieking, squalling infant to
me...but amazingly, hurt him not at all. I accepted him, not knowing what
in the world to do with him since he was not a fledgling yet, and placed him in
a rabbit hutch until I could find a way to get rid of him...I was hoping to give
him to the vet's or a wildlife refuge or something.
I am and was an animal
lover, having five cats and the dog, but I'd never really been into birds. I
called around, trying to find someone who would take him...no luck.
So
that he wouldn't die overnight, I bought some Gerber Baby Food (Veal flavor) and
poked it down his little beak.
By the next morning, he'd started to grow on me.
I still (somewhat halfheartedly!) searched for a way to get rid of him, but
could find nothing. By that evening he'd recognized me as the food source
and started squalling the moment I stepped into the room. I remained somewhat
distant until a few days later, when he gained the ability to perch and hop.
At that point, when he started to sit on my shoulder and preen my hair...I was
in love! |
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He was promptly named Damas (after a computer game villain who
turned into crows, kind of like the Morrigan) and adopted as a member of the
household. Even my dad, who generally detests all manner of birds, was won
over.
I became used to the ritual of waking up every morning at 4:00 to his
yelling for food. He was quite an alarm clock...I was never late to class
again! I had to feed him what seemed like continually, (when I was away,
whatever member of the family was able to fed him) but I found myself forgiving
everything. His continual pooping, early-morning screaming...it was
impossible to hold a grudge. How can you not love a bird who sits on your
shoulder, nibbles your ear, preens your hair, and talks to you in clear words of
love?
My dad helped me build a giant aviary on our back porch so that he
could have room to learn to fly, we bought him a special birdbath, I hand-built
him a nest (which he promptly tore apart! I guess I just wasn't very good
at building nests!) and provided him with toys. He basically ate up all my
spare time...but he was the best way to use that spare time I'd ever found.
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He
was the boss of the household, and he knew it. He had only to caw, and
three or four people would be rushing out to his aviary to feed, pet, or play
with him. He was rather spoiled rotten! (He loved me better than
anyone else though...awww...why can't there be a guy like that?!?) When he was
well able to fly, we began to leave the door to his aviary open during the day,
so that he could leave it when he was ready. And, in due time, he decided
it was time to leave, and without fanfare he vanished one afternoon. He turned
up that evening in the middle of a gaggle of other young crows (we knew the
family he'd joined, it was a crow family from the eucalyptus tree back of our
house.)
Over the next several months, he'd come back and say hi to us
periodically...we knew his voice. He was easily recognizable by both sound
and sight, since he had unique white markings on the underside of his wings.
As of this writing, he still talks to me sometimes although much less often.
He's a fully fledged member of normal crow society. Damas was the best thing
that ever happened to me.
(a few days after writing this, in
which she expressed a desire to repeat the experience,
another baby crow was delivered to her, unharmed, by Stephanie's amazing wolf
hybrid dog.
She's decided to name this one Morrigan and the two of them are doing very
well!)
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Cottage