Last night Snowflake and I took the Chidler on a little trek and on our way home, I spied a crow. It just happened to catch my eye. Why oh why did it have to? Something was wrong with it. It was hobbling on the median of a busy four lane avenue. It quickly shambled its way without getting smooshed to the yard across from mine. Its wing was broken, hanging down. Dragging it, trying to fly, but couldn't.
It nestled itself in front of my neighbors garage door. It made me so sad. Can there be anything more depressing? I am Elly May Clampett, so it breaks my heart to see a creature in distress, even if some may consider it a nuisance. I have always loved crows, even in their scavenging, low down dirty ways. They are funny, loud and social.
When I was with Snowflake's Y, his alcoholic neighbors upstairs found a crow with a broken wing. They tethered it to a perch outside of his bedroom window and tried to nurse it back to health. This went on for a few weeks and then one day it was just gone. I don't know what became of it.
I know this poor creature has no hope. One of the million feral cats will get it or something will trample it. Dearest Wounded Crow, I hope you had an alright life and I will always remember you this way, peaceful.
