A commotion by kids wakes me up from the weekend afternoon nap, with the old brain recovering from a week of punishing Java. My son is carrying a cardboard box on which perched a wounded Crow, with a trailing posse of budding bird lovers. Apparently all of the other kids’ parents told their offsprings to be off with the Crow. Kids set the crow up in the Patio, with a handful of rice and a bowl of water to feed on. It is not crowing, sensitive on the feet with gingerly trying to balance weight from one foot to the other. My son researched and found couple of Bird rescue societies, prancing and leaving messages to advice him of what to do, to the answering machines in the other end. A phone in his ear, makes him pace up and down, and talking with the equal pace, not just for leaving messages, even when he is talking to his friends. Digressing, “Crowey has moved”, announces my daughter, with a gleeful expectation that all is right with the Crow. As night falls, it has moved to under Kids chairs in the patio, then moved to under a Scooter, then moved back to the cardboard box.
With no callback from the bird societies and with the upcoming Memorial day Monday, I was telling my son, that the Crow might have to stay for couple of days in our Patio. He mentions that his sister will be “enthralled” with that news. Not sure, where he is getting these words, an avid reader, digressing again.
The next morning, both the kids come in with long faces announcing the demise of the unfortunate bird. Of course, it was, kind of tipped on the side, at the edge of the patio, where there is a small patch of dirt. Poor bird.
What to do now ? We decided that we will bury it in the Garden, next to the Patio, so we went, with my daughter’s gardening tools, myself and son trying to dig a hole large enough to fit the bird. Much to our dismay find that the dirt is actually tightly packed with gravel, but with some effort we dig one. My son, gets back into the patio, this time with gloved hands and brings the lifeless bird, with his sister tailing him. We settle the bird down and take turns to fill in the dirt. After filling we stomp and pack the dirt. My son finds a small but rather vertical stone and we install that as the headstone. We walk back rather glumly into our home.
Today is my daughter’s birthday, who has lately gotten into the habit of checking out Pets and Pet Bird books rather religiously from her school library and make it a point to educate us on Budgies, Canaries, Finches, Shelf pets and a lot more, dropping indirect and as the birthday nears rather direct hints and requests. We budged, today, off we went to “Pet Smart” and after a rather lengthy stay at the store, we are out with a “Starter Finch Cage” with two “Zebra Finches“. My son is somewhat sullen, as his request for a reptile of any kind over the years had never reached the inside of his parent’s ears. But, he names one of the Finches as “Sonic”, my daughter names the other as ”Polly”. We come back home, my brave wife sets up the Cage with various goodies for the finches. They have water, feed, a hanging treat bar, a mineral bar. What a life, barring the Cage, and then What is life, in a Cage ?
This is our story of an American Crow and two Zebra Finches.