TOWNSHEND — When I was in elementary school, I found a crow who couldn't fly. I picked him up and rode home on my bicycle with him in my arms.
I named him Pickins, because he pecked at everyone except me.
I found a big birdcage in the garage attic and lined it with newspaper. I gave him plenty of water.
Then I had to think about what to feed him. I remembered something about how crows ate garbage and dead things. I certainly wasn't going to go through the garbage, nor was I going to go find dead things.
So I asked my science teacher what I should feed Pickins. She said raw hamburger, fruits, and vegetables.
That also seemed to be a challenge because if I went into the house to ask my mother for raw hamburger, she would learn about Pickins and make me get rid of him. So I would sneak whatever I could out of the refrigerator.
I spent as much time as I could with the crow, taking him out of his cage every day for walks in the grass or just to sit on my shoulder.
If I stayed away too long, the crow would make funny noises and squawk. Sometimes I think Pickins was talking to the other birds in our yard. We bonded deeply.
I kept Pickins all summer. It was a lot of work taking care of a crow; as much as Pickins ate, he still wanted more. He pooped. He also liked taking baths in his water dish. He needed daily cleaning.
Eventually, the rest of the family learned about Pickins, and he recovered his ability to fly. What he didn't like was my younger brother Michael, who would stick his fingers in the cage. Pickins would peck at him, and I would get into trouble.
When Pickins gave us trouble, my mother would ask, “When are you going to get rid of that bird?”
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I learned that crows are curious, smart, and family-oriented and they like to be in family groups that keep young birds near their parents. Where was Pickins's family, I wondered.
I also learned that crows love to communicate, and they give different calls for different things, like danger or finding food. Pickins made cooing sounds when he first saw me in the morning. I think he was saying, “It's nice to see you,” and asking me, “Where were you?”
I couldn't believe how fast the summer went by. What would Pickins do all day while I was away at school?
In the morning, before I went to school, I'd eat my breakfast with the crow. Then I would hurry home from school to be with Pickins.
One day I came home from school and Pickins was not in his cage. I blamed my mother, thinking she'd let the crow go.
But instead, Pickins himself had figured out how to open his cage all on his own, and he kept doing so more and more while I was at school. I'm glad we had a covered porch.
* * *
Then one fall day, I decided it was time to let Pickins go before winter came.
One sunny afternoon after school, I sat with him before I took him outside to my backyard, where I saw him for the last time.
I opened his cage, and Pickins flew away.
Now in my adult years, I've come to believe, and feel in my heart, that crows are messengers from heaven and God.
My home is full of crow statues and pictures. People give me crow-related objects.
These presents remind me not only of Pickins but also of how close we are to heaven here on earth.