"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, staying
to watch them feed. After many times, he started to talk to them, calling ‘crow,
crow, and crow’. They would stop to look his way, noticing him there not far
from the crumbs. Eventually, Bob tried sitting not far with crumbs beside him.
At first the crows ignored him. He would wait patiently, then leave after a
wait, taking those crumbs with him. The crows noticed this, of course. Greed
got the best of some and they would sneak close enough to grab a few then fly
off. My father smiled knowingly… Several weeks went by, when one day a crow got
right next to Bob. He never moved, but spoke softly to the black beauty. After
several days, he held out his hand with crumbs and waited again… one crow got
very brave and ate out of his hand one day. This became a daily ritual till one
day the crow Ate the crumbs then Dad tipped his finger and patted the smooth
black feathers on his neck. He flew off but returned the next day for his hand feeding.
with a quick pat. Then finally one morning, young Bob waited for the crow to
arrive. When he was done his crumbs Bob quickly reached down and grabbed the crow’s
leg! A great confusion of crow screams, flapping feathers and laughing arouse.
The local 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…
