Why it's Good to Know Where Your Towel Is
Or: Quoth the Raven, "Dude, GET ME OUT OF HERE."
Much like Poe, I heard a rapping, tapping on the cellar door window. When I finally went to see what was causing it, this is the face that greeted me:
The basement window wells at this house are very deep, about 4', and this young crow had somehow hopped or fallen into one -- and it couldn't get out. Look closely, and you'll see that it still has blue eyes, because it's really just a fledgling.
I borrowed an old beach towel from the clients, hopped into the window well and gently tossed the towel over the terrified crow. Birds have an interesting reaction wherein, when they can't see, their brains sort of shift into Neutral. That and the protective layer of fabric allowed me to get the young crow out of the hole without either of us getting hurt. That beak looked really, REALLY sharp.
When I unwrapped the towel, the poor crow simply lay still, as if in a daze, for quite a while. I could probably have stroked its feathers, but it had been through more than enough trauma by then.
I found Crow Junior on the sidewalk later on, when I was leaving work. It got through the fence (eventually, hah) and then called for its family, and within a minute there were about five adult crows gathered, cursing at me for being so close. They'd converged on their youngster and clearly were going to take care of it until it could get back into the trees on its own.
Much like Poe, I heard a rapping, tapping on the cellar door window. When I finally went to see what was causing it, this is the face that greeted me:
The basement window wells at this house are very deep, about 4', and this young crow had somehow hopped or fallen into one -- and it couldn't get out. Look closely, and you'll see that it still has blue eyes, because it's really just a fledgling.
I borrowed an old beach towel from the clients, hopped into the window well and gently tossed the towel over the terrified crow. Birds have an interesting reaction wherein, when they can't see, their brains sort of shift into Neutral. That and the protective layer of fabric allowed me to get the young crow out of the hole without either of us getting hurt. That beak looked really, REALLY sharp.
When I unwrapped the towel, the poor crow simply lay still, as if in a daze, for quite a while. I could probably have stroked its feathers, but it had been through more than enough trauma by then.
I found Crow Junior on the sidewalk later on, when I was leaving work. It got through the fence (eventually, hah) and then called for its family, and within a minute there were about five adult crows gathered, cursing at me for being so close. They'd converged on their youngster and clearly were going to take care of it until it could get back into the trees on its own.