Fig has been with me for almost a year. My goal with this permanently injured Crow, as I stated previously, has always been to try to raise her as semi-independent. That is, I wanted to provide for her, a home, or a place to sleep, with food and water, and some social life, but I wanted her to be able to enjoy being a Crow, living outside, essentially free to roam, and jump about in the trees around our neighborhood. She is after all perfectly smart enough to evade cars and cats, and most crazy humans. She is no dumby.
Unfortunately, that dream, that goal came to a sudden crashing end this weekend, but please don't worry. Fig is fine; only the dream of freedom has been scratched from the drawing board. Why?
Well, on Saturday, I let Fig out. I gave her a choice, stay or go out. From time to time I would simply set her free to test our bond, and her will to go free. It was a risk, but she is a wild animal, and I really wanted to respect that, and let her remain so. She has been out a few dozen times over the last year. As usual she chose to go out. A frolic in the tree proves irrisistible to her. So, off the balcony she leapt, into the four story high tree by our building. And, there she sat.
A year ago, she would have been animated, hyper, a bit panicked, watching me highly suspiciously, looking for the next step towards freedom, and cawing like crazy for a rescue from her family if she was out free in the tree, but not so today. Now she sits quietly, mostly, talking to her family near by as they come and go, but also walking towards me from time to time, and conversing with me in the words only the two of us use daily, for colors, and a bit of English too. I have to say, it was one of the highlights of my life to see her, a wild, injured Crow, sitting free in the tree, being a beautiful, free, independent, real-deal bird. And it moved me deeply, her not fearing me, and taking the time to come and chat with me, when there were so many other Crows about in the atmosphere, coming and going, busy with breeding season duties, with whom she could have asked for cawfee.
Alas, after two hours in the fresh, light green, spring leaves of the tree, with the warm firey sunshine burning into her back, having snapped her beak at a few curious flies, and called enthusiastically to some siblings busy helping her parents with this year's nestlings, Fig retreated to the cool shade beneath the canopy where she sat among the branches, playfully toying with some of the old dry branches, breaking them off, fiddling about with them, then dropping them to the cool earth below. Then the needle really scratched across the record, and the music completely stopped! Terror from the skies!
It was a surprise attack, and an attack in earnest by two massive Crows. But who was it? This is Fig's family territory. They know her! Could that be? I suddenly realize that one of the Crows is Fig's dad. So, the other must be an older, or same age sibling. But, why would they attack Fig? For whatever reason, they were out to make a statement, and the mission was accomplished; the message was received, like no other, for it was very nearly written in blood. These two large Crows, out of nowhere, actually appearing out of thin air, silently, stealthily, like Ninja's in the night, but in broad daylight no less, they fell down into that tree in unison, a pair in total collaboration, having conspired, planned and implemented their dreadful, sinister, coniving, traitorous, betrayal. Like a growling, thunderous, branch snapping, snarling pair of shadowy Tigers, they fell down through the canopy landing beaks first, crashing down with their full weight upon poor unsuspecting Fig. Incredible. No one. No one, can sneak up on a Crow...but a Crow! It was utter, stony silence on an almost windless day. They rolled and tumbled through the tree like a giant feathery meatball of fume and fury, then split apart snarling, alighting on different branches. Sheer terror! Nooooooo! I screamed, waving my arms wildly. Ah ha! They did not know I was there! They were so surprised, Fig had a chance. Very luckily, I managed to quickly get an eye lock on which Crow was Fig, my eyes wildly darting Crow to Crow, otherwise the battle may have been lost. She dove through the trees and onto the next building's roof, her attackers standing confused, each a bit dazed, staring mistakenly at the wrong Crow after their disorientation in the tumble. In an instant more, Fig was up the ten-foot-tall TV antennae, surveying every inch of her surroundings. No good. The scoundrels were on her again, divebombing from the air like a pair of WWI aces, in perfect order, a one two punch. Fig needed a miracle, AND, she'd have it! She really would.
For the first time ever, Fig flew!!! She really, really flew! I think I flew a bit too leaning out over the stairwell's edge into space. Who wouldn't? I almost leapt into that tree to rescue poof Figgy. She did not gain a centimeter of altitude as she crossed the parking lot, and then the street, but she flew straight as an arrow, and she flew far. Her incredible flight just went on, and on. It was like a sports movie's climatic moment, where everyone's jaw drops, and there is ten seconds of complete, utter stunned continuous silence, then replay, replay, replay. For crying out loud, she has no cartilage in one elbow! How could she fly? My son and wife happened to be watching from the balcony, and they saw the whole thing. My son yelled, That's Figgy! And my wife said, No, it can't be. Fig can't fly. But she did! And the effort exhausted her.
She alighted on a power pole's wire, quickly remaneuvering to the top of the pole, looking for multiple excape routes. I was down the stairs, out the door, and into the street as quick as an Olympic athlete, at her side, for her defense. Crows are cowards in the face of an aggressive human, but these two were out for blood at all costs. I called Fig to come down quick, and she wanted to, but she also knew instinctively that down, was also, possibly, out, as in lights out for her. She'd have had no chance at all in a brawl on the ground. A dangerous gamble. Come on. Come on. No good. Incoming!!! But Fig was ahead of the game this time, her senses hightened. Off she went again. This time not quite so far. Obviously, she was exhausted from the surprise, the rush of adrenaline, her long flight, and the fear of death struck into her.
She flew to a nearby apartment's walkway, only making the second floor. She had started up on the fourth floor hieght, so she wasn't doing badly in the flight department with terror and adrenaline driving her will for survival. In comes the airforce again and again, I don't know how many times, twisting and turning, grabbing, and pouncing, snarling, growling, grawwk, rawww, akkk, gonk!!!! Go away, intruder!!! Then Fig's dad took a perch one story up, on the walkway wall, looking down on Fig who he once knew well enough, but apparently had forgotten, or forsaken. The other Crow took a perch a couple buildings away, resting up for the next attack. Fig's dad grocked loudly at her, making as if he would pounce down upon her at any moment, chasing her the full length of the walkway from above. Fig gronked back at her dad, but softer, and she struck an odd pose which I interpreted to be one of sexual submission, complete surrender. She squatted down, head forward, grawking softly, wings trembling, shuddering, tail raised up, softly growling. It seemed she was sending a mixed message. I am submitting you fuck, now back off!! It was a piteous sight. It felt very much like she was saying, Dad, it's me! Don't you remember me? She seemed frustrated and flabbergasted, in disbelief, as was I.
I took a moment to connect with her dad with my eyes, and my body language. What are you doing? I pleaded? And it seemed for a short moment that he was slowly recalling who Fig was, and lightening his tone. He turned his head reflectively as if to entertain my querry, then flew off when a man came down the walkway.
A man from a store had come out the backdoor to check what all the Crowmotion was. He quickly spotted Fig, and the imposing monster Crow above her on the balcony before he'd taken to the air again. Having a sudden chance presented, I quickly asked him if he had a key to the stairwell. Amazingly, he did! In his pocket! He opened the door, and I ran to meet Fig on the second floor walkway. Still trembling with fear, she was not ready to come to me. She ran back down the walkway wall, and leapt a meter out onto the wobbly powerline. That instability was the sign for the sibling to commense with the dive bombing. I saw it coming from the building down the road a ways, and Fig's dad was coming round again. Waving my arms I managed to fend them off well enough, but Fig's dad landed a diving grab, causing Fig to lose her balance, so she jumped to the banister of balcony stairwell around the corner of the same building. I opened outside stairwell door slowly, so not to startle her, but she could see the fruit stand from there, our usual meeting place. She flew down. Startled by a cyclist, she opted to land on the gate of a garage door, then jumped to the ground, and ran to the fruit stand where she hid behind a sign. That was our usual meeting place, and I knew she'd let me collect her there, and she did. She did not even pant in my arms, but she was trembling with andrenaline coursing through her muscles for the last 20-30 minutes. I lost track of the time.
The terrifying ordeal was over. Fig was still alive, only having suffered a couple of badly twisted feathers on her bad wing which was an easy grab. It took her nearly two hours to calm back down though, and perhaps more tragically, my hope and dream for her partial freedom, and independence was dashed, right then and there; a total loss. My heart sank.
Why did her own family attack her? There are many possible explanations. Maybe, they forgot her. Maybe, they forsook her. Maybe, because it is breeding season, and chicks are in the nest currently, the defense hormones are running ultra high, and it's take no chances. That is nature's cruel way. Perhaps they heard Fig talking to me, and got pissed off, or thought she must be foreign. Whatever the reason, message recieved. I cannot have Fig facing that on her own. She would simply never survive it. I am lucky she did not end up a bloody pulp this day. You do not get that lucky twice. She is a tiny, sweet female Crow, not a big imposing ape of a male. She'd have no chance.
There is now a roof over Fig's balcony, where only one third of one had previously been. I'll need to put in some windows or screens to give her some chance at a view of her surroundings, and the sky. It is a heartbreaking way to come round on a year with this incredible bird. But the story is not over. I'll have to get her out in the sun another way.
The irony though is that the biggest threat to this animal, who had no friends to begin with, and no love in this cold, bothersome world, save from me and the trees, was her own family...I never expected this. I never entertained the thought because up to this day, Fig was well remembered, accepted, and given quite an obvious show of sympathy from her family. Obviously, that has expired. Nothing can be done.
Boy, if I had only had a sliver of memory on my iPhone, and had managed to somehow catch that attack on video...Wow! That was seriously one of the scariest 30 minutes of my life. It is one of those moments I will never forget. Having read about aggression in Crows many times, but having never seen it in the slightest...this experience is unique.
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