"A old friend"
I’ve always loved crows and rescued one as a child. It had an
injured wing which healed over a week, then was released back to the yard
behind Bonavesta house where I lived.
I never knew my father that well growing up. I was raised by
my grand-mother till I was 16 years old, lived with my bio mother for 2
horrible years, then ventured out into life by myself.
I was talking to an old family friend who related to me a
story of my father and the crows he used to tend as a child. My father, Bob
Wells, was a great animal lover, who brought home every stray he found as a
young child. At age 9 years,he started feeding the local crows hanging around the train tracks
on Water Street , Yarmouth Water street
workers came from their salty shacks to witness Dad catching his first live
crow! He tied a string to his leg and ‘flew’ the crow home to his bewildered
mother. She was shocked and cried. It was bad luck to bring a crow into the
house to live and not only that,but the crow was mad, hurt and
not longer trusted him. I’ll let him go then. He took the crow out into the
back of the house on Main Street
and cut the string from his leg. Mad, the crow flew to the top of the house to
tell him off one last time before disappearing back toward Water Street .
The crows never trusted him that much again but they would
still come and wait for the crumbs, from the roof next door, till Bob left.
Smiling…
