A Crow Named Lucky: Saving a Little Part of Nature

A Crow Named Lucky – saving a little part of nature

Copyright © 2014 by Mike Robson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without the express consent of the author.

Edited by Marguerite Sprague and Karlyn Thayer

Cover Design by Bookbaby

Photos by Mike Robson

Printed and bound in the United States of America

First edition

ISBN: 978-1-6319223-9-8

eISBN: 9781483534848

LUCKY

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1

Survival of the Fittest and One for Three

Chapter 2

Care and Feeding

Chapter 3

Our House

Chapter 4

Growing Up

Meet the Neighbors

Feathers Everywhere

Cat Food?

Chapter 5

What Kind of Bird Doesn’t Know How to Fly?

Chapter 6

The Cage

Chapter 7

Freedom at Last

Chapter 8

He’s Back!

Chapter 9

Which Way Did He Go?

Chapter 10

Just Having Fun

Talking

Sounds

Relaxing by the Pool

Playing in the Yard

Taking a Bath

Chapter 11

Learning to be a Real Crow

Socializing

The Foraging Lesson

Chapter 12

Drifting Away

Chapter 13

The Last Day

Appendix:

Something About Crows

Rescuing Fledglings

Crows – The Most Amazing Nuisance

Corvus intellectus (sic)

Crows Mobbing Hawks

Two Against One - Not Fair!

Roxanne – Our Skunker

Connect With Mike

Acknowledgements

To Diane, Sarah and Lindsay for your unconditional love and support for Lucky.

To Marguerite Sprague and Karlyn Thayer for their significant technical and creative contributions that made our story about Lucky better in so many ways.

And, of course, to Lucky...wherever you are, thank you. Your time with us was short, but you gave us a lifetime of memories.

You get to say the world is flat, because you live in a country that guarantees free speech, but it’s not a country that guarantees anything you say is correct.

Neil deGrasse Tyson‎

Preface

A Crow Named Lucky is narrative nonfiction based on a family’s experience saving a blind featherless baby crow from certain death.

The audience for this story will be those interested in crows and ravens, animals, nature and conservation, although anyone looking for a heartwarming and entertaining story will enjoy reading about our journey with Lucky.

It was my daughter Lindsay who inspired me to write about our time with Lucky. It had never occurred to me before but it would be a great way to share with others this remarkable summer in our lives. We always enjoyed talking about him but there was never enough time to tell it all. Writing about it would be the best way to share the story in its entirety.

Most people found it interesting that I brought this little chick home to show my daughters. Mothers and grandmothers thought it sweet that we did this project together as a family. But this was about more than just saving a baby chick. We learned that crows are very intelligent, can talk and like to play.

My daughters got to witness a part of nature few people ever get to see. It heightened their awareness of the world around them and the ever-present role that instincts play in survival. It also taught them about the rewards and disappointments that come from doing the right thing, like stopping to help even when we feel incapable.

When I found Lucky, I didn’t know that crows are considered among the smartest of all birds. I had always admired the resourcefulness of crows, but like most people I thought of them as mindless scavengers and a general nuisance. My perception of crows has since changed completely. I now think of them as the most amazing nuisance.

When I started writing about Lucky, trying to put the most memorable events in order, it surprised me how easily the memories flowed from my head. They were all right where I’d left them more than a decade earlier.

Initially, my motivation was to convey the depth of our personal experience with Lucky, his character and how it all affected us emotionally. It didn’t take long to realize there was much more to this story than I thought.

Saving Lucky had also given us an opportunity to look into the mind of the crow. In addition to our personal experience, I had been unintentionally recording crow behavior — well, at least Lucky’s behavior — with some human influence mixed in.

One can argue that the human influence negates, or at least would sufficiently confound Lucky’s natural behavior making any meaningful conclusions about his instinctual response questionable. It would be hard to prove otherwise without additional study involving a more scientific method but, from what I saw, any affect we had on Lucky did not interfere with his instincts, and it didn’t change the outcome — Lucky would not to be deterred from his destiny.

I tried to resist the temptation to over-analyze Lucky’s behavior, although, there are times I may have done so. It’s hard for me not to because some of the things I witnessed were so remarkable, begging for an explanation.

Although it was exciting to realize the possible significance of my observations, I didn’t want behavioral analyses overshadowing the best parts of the story...the bond we shared with Lucky, the endless hours of entertainment, and the personal reward that came from saving a little part of nature, no matter how small.

There are times I stray a bit analyzing things I saw Lucky do, but I do so with the best of intentions, if only to find meaning in some of the more remarkable things I witnessed.

Here I have tried to capture the words that best told our story of Lucky. How we fell in love with his character and gladly altered our daily routines to spend as much time with him as possible, and, if that wasn’t enough, how this experience left us with a newfound appreciation for crows and the natural world that governs their survival.

Introduction

It was an honor to be in the right place, at the right time, to give this little part of nature we named Lucky another chance. Nature rewarded us with the opportunity to see her handiwork up close and personal.

Knocked from a safe place high in the branches of a eucalyptus tree, nest and all, there was no way the featherless baby crow could be reunited with its family, so we took it into ours. This would be the beginning of a most extraordinary adventure - eyes open, feathers grow, and the character of the crow is revealed.

We named the chick Lucky because it seemed so appropriate at the time. Maybe there was some luck in the beginning, but that’s when he needed us most. In the long run, however, it was Lucky's instincts and determination that really made the difference.

Thinking back to that day when I first picked up that little pink ball of flesh, the thing that sticks out most in my mind is Lucky’s will to survive. As inspirational as it was to witness, it would be just the beginning of our journey with Lucky.

I tried to anticipate Lucky’s needs thinking it would now be up to us to teach him everything he needed to know, much of it ill conceived, or misunderstood on my part. As Lucky grew he developed into a crow mostly by himself, with a little help from some close relatives. It all would have been much easier had I known in advance how crows really worked.

Despite meddling in his upbringing, Lucky was always patient with our obvious shortcomings, never giving up on us humans. Since we were all he had from the beginning, I think he tried to make the best of the situation. He was always mindful of everything we did, watching attentively as if expecting the next great thing. This must be the natural response for any crow learning how to survive — pay close attention to those most likely to provide what you might need.

Fortunately for Lucky, he would need only the very basics from us; the rest would take time to put into place. In general, I think we did the most important things right, but all Lucky really needed from us was a little food, encouragement, and enough distance to allow his instincts to guide him.

I will never forget that fateful meeting with Lucky or the days of wonder and entertainment in the company of the luckiest bird in the world.

As I think back, it makes me wonder...who really was the lucky one?

Chapter 1

Survival of the Fittest and

One for Three

On a cold windy spring afternoon I was on my way to see a customer with a kitchen-remodeling project. It was overcast and it had rained intermittently all day, not enough to get you really wet but with the wind it was enough to chill you to the bone.

Thinking about the client’s project described to me on the phone the previous day, I was carefully rehearsing all the phases of the job so that I appeared professional and confident. You can never be too prepared.

I also had other things on my mind - bids to prepare, calls to return, plans to make and family to embrace. The way things were going it was clear that bedtime would not come before midnight, but this was nothing new for me. Since starting my own construction business my days and nights had become a blur. I had never worked this hard or such long hours as an aerospace engineer. Nobody said running your own business would be easy, and they were right, even though they didn’t say it.

Little did I know how my plans for the evening would soon change completely.

I found the customer’s address and pulled into the parking area. It was a very nice townhouse complex, pleasantly landscaped and large, about 120 separate units. It was in a good area and very close to home so I was anxious to get the job.

Due to all the activity going on inside the compound, I had difficulty maneuvering my pickup to find a parking space. It looked like somebody had dropped a bomb!

All of the tall eucalyptus trees nearby had been stripped nearly clean and the fallen branches were strewn everywhere. Large trucks hauling wood chippers made it difficult to maneuver in the driveway and workers were hustling about moving the branches cut from the trees. The whine of chainsaws and the deafening sound of the machines shredding branches added to the confusion.

I convinced myself that it would all look better when things were cleaned up.

Making my way through the maze of trucks, people and tree branches, I was finally able to locate what was the only available parking spot. I grab my briefcase and proceeded to locate the customer’s unit.

While walking towards a path that by my reckoning would take me in the right direction, I noticed two little girls and a boy poking with sticks at something in the gutter. They were maybe six to ten years old and despite all the commotion from the tree trimmers and the racket from the machines appeared completely oblivious to everything going on around them.

They were so intent at what they were doing it made me curious, so I walked over to find out what they were poking at. Glancing down to see what had so captured their attention my eyes fell upon a very disturbing sight.

Well, now I knew what had riveted the children’s attention. Lying on its side in a cold puddle of water that had collected from the recent rains was some kind of bird.

It was pink, featherless, smaller than my fist and so young its eyes weren’t even open yet. The poor little creature appeared to be shivering uncontrollably and wriggling its head about spastically in what seemed to me a futile effort to find comfort or warmth.

Nearby was a nest and another smaller chick already dead.

A branch with the nest attached must have been cut from one of the nearby eucalyptus trees during the trimming activity. It made me grimace imagining how hard the nest with the chicks in it must have crashed to the ground from so high up. It was hard to believe either chick was still alive.

Under these circumstances, it would be impossible for mama and the surviving chick to be reunited. Contrary to popular myth, fallen chicks can be returned to the nest and will be accepted by mama, but in this case the nest was gone and the chick was too helpless and vulnerable to have any chance on the ground even with help from its mama. Most likely, she’d already moved on realizing there was nothing more she could do to save her lost brood.

Survival waits for no one.

Judging by the expression on the children’s faces, it was clear they were struggling to comprehend what they were looking at. Disgusted and maybe a little fearful of what this thing was, as if it were alien, or some strange deformed and possibly contagious creature that could make them sick if they touched it.

To a degree, I did understand how the children must have felt looking at this thing. A featherless chick is certainly a strange looking creature indeed.

They didn’t look at me when I walked up. Maybe it was understandable, given everything going on around us. I’m not sure they were ever aware that I was standing next to them.

When I asked if they knew what it