It was back, today, the unfortunate, broken crow. It was here, just a minute ago, and, oh, that poor bird! It lay in the feeder, half on its side, all horrible and unpreened, eyes glazed and mucky, filling itself with the suet I’d put out, specially for it — just in case it was alive, and somehow made its way here. (Suet is a high-energy snack. A bird in that state, it seems to me, needs all the energy it can get.) I think its leg’s the problem, more than its wing. It can’t seem to stand, at all; it must have broken a bone. It must be in a terrible amount of pain. I think it could survive, though, if it gets enough to eat, and doesn’t get eaten, itself. I had a budgie, once, before I decided keeping pet birds wasn’t the kindest thing to do, and that only had one leg. Or, rather, it had two, but a rat bit one, and it went all withery and useless. That budgie lasted at least another five or six years, and it was well into middle age when I got it, so maybe, with luck, the crow might fare so well.
Of course, it would have a better stab at survival, if someone could set that leg. I tried to catch it, when it came to the feeder, but it finished eating before I got close enough to throw my coat over it. I’m not sure I could’ve gone much faster, though. It kept looking up at me. Any sudden moves, and it might have flown away without finishing its meal, and that would’ve been even worse. That particular crow is not, under ordinary circumstances, afraid of me. It usually lands right next to me, practically ON me, when I’m filling up the feeder. It scolds, when I take the feeder away, for a wash. But today, it seemed wary. Probably, it felt vulnerable. I wish I could explain to it that I could take it somewhere good, where someone would fix it up, if it would only stand still, and let me wrap it in my coat.
I wonder if I might rig something up — a box with a string attached, perhaps — that could be pulled down, trapping the crow, should it manage another visit. Of course, that could end up hurting it, if the edge of the box knocked it on the head. I wish I had one of those nets they use to trap birds for ringing; those are safe, right? Well, no use speculating; I can’t imagine where I’d lay my hands on one of those. I’ll have to try with the box, and hope a curious gull doesn’t pull the bally thing over on itself.
No pictures, today: I was more interested in catching the crow than in recording its plight. Besides, no-one likes to be snapped when they’re feeling like death warmed over.
