Crows in my life: WikiPet blogger stories
"Here is a crow on a sloping roof
So from the winter and remained shaggy.
And in the air - spring bells,
Even the spirit took over the ravens.
Suddenly jumped sideways stupid lope,
Down on the ground she looks sideways:
What whitens under the tender grass?
Get yellow under a gray bench
Last year's wet shavings ...
It's all crows toys
And so the crow is happy
What a spring, and breathe her freely!
At 4, my mother bought me A. Blok’s children's book in a corner bookstore. He is still there, this bookstore. And the book is still alive. In childhood, both trees were giants, and snowdrifts - snow-capped mountains, and crows - huge eerie gray birds.
Ravens (together with Ravens, Jackdaws, Rooks, Magpies, Jays) belong to the order of passerines. Brave, smart, able to act very cohesively together.
I hurry one morning in May to work through a small square. A big cat crawls across my path on my belly, pressing my ears. Crows attack him. They dive in pairs, croak loudly, flip their beaks over the cat’s head. One pair goes on a U-turn, and another pair of raven fighters flies off a maple on the opposite side. And so again and again. A very effective tactic ... The cat is crawling away. And the reason for the attacks - ridiculous, "nyazgrabny" (well-aimed Belarusian word) squirrel crows - continues to sit in the grass.
Once I walk along the railroad tracks, take a walk, wave the passengers of passing trains (both children and adults waved to me like that in Ukraine when we went to Yevpatoriya).The train sped off, and my back feels some kind of fuss. Eyes do not see, ears do not hear, but something is clearly happening behind. I turn around and squat. Two crows almost sat on me, or rather, on my head (and I work with it, by the way). Turned around, haggled and flew to the roadside poplar. I wave my fist after them: now get, they say.
I go further, and the attack is repeated. They fly silently, well, or almost silently. It is unlikely that I subtly capture the vibrations of air from their wings. Although everything can be. I spun around and crouched. Ravens cackle and fly away to another poplar.
So, it's time to fend for yourself. I’m not a cat for you; I’m not crawling on my belly. Sletkov seems to be nowhere to be seen. Probably they were attracted by my hairpin in her hair, in it some kind of mother-of-pearl inserts. This is my hairpin, I won’t give it to anyone! With difficulty I find some rotten poplar bough in the grass (and there is cleanliness, no sticks, no stones around), and the next attack I meet the raiders fully armed: I am threateningly waving this rotten dust (when sliced, multiple pieces fall off amicably from it). Crows go on a U-turn. I even go backwards for a while, watching them fly from poplar to poplar after me. Here are hooked! This is my hairpin! (Or what do you want there? I won’t give it up anyway!) It seems to be behind.
It so happened that literally a day later my sister went the same way. She calls me and says: “Can you imagine how the crows are insolent!” Yes, I just imagine. They also dived on her head.
At the end of May I go up with my grocery bags to my high second floor, I came home after work.On the go, I’m fishing a bunch of apartment keys from the bowels of my handbag ...
I must also mention the unfortunate episode when the crows for some reason chose my balcony as an observation post. In the mornings they sat on my clothesline and nevertheless lied about the freshly washed linen (wow! How I later hardly washed and bleached it, or maybe threw it away). Do you know what this is about money? Wow what! So, where is the money? Ege-ge ...
So. I'm at the door of my own apartment. And the neighbors had something wrong on the gray rug in front of the door. Something, sorry, a bunch. Gray. The bunch moved a little. At neighbors on a rug sits a crow. Should I squat or start crawling on my belly? I’ll probably hide in my human nest. But where did the fleet come from? Neighbor children brought? Flew into the window (in the window)? A bit high.
Lost fledgling. How much is he sitting here? Probably quite weak, heartfelt. And where are his parents looking? Worst of all, if a sick or wing injured, or foot. I quickly lay out my purchases and go to save the helpless defenseless chick. I lift it from the mat. He, clutching his paws tightly to my left index finger, is trying to flap his wings. It seems that the wings and legs are intact - already easier. I stand him in the yard. Experience suggests that they are waiting and looking for him. Crows do not leave their. I can’t decide which of the raven’s bases to carry it to: to the left, to the square near the cinema, or to the right, into the larch bushes near the playground? I put him on the curb under the nearest poplar and rush home - everyone wants to have dinner. And I'm hungry.
At home, I begin to fuss around the stove, and through the window I see that the crow is sitting alone on the curb. Here I am a bastard. The child planted it so dangerously: near the road, here cars are often parked, and he is also probably hungry, weakened. I have leftover oatmeal with raisins on my table. I take a plate and a fork and go to feed the chick. Sletka is still sitting blankly on the curb. With a fork, shake off some of the sticky porridge near it. And the chick suddenly opens its beak wide. I put the next portion of porridge in his beak. He swallows and makes a faint cry.
- Come on, do not reign, but croak harder! Call your parents, where did they go? - I’m talking to a funnel.
People pass by, neighbors with prams, turn around, smile, maybe they twist their fingers at the temple. I'm not up to them. I myself am a specialist in mental health. And disease. It’s just that I’m now in the image of a raven mother (raven), so it should be. This is temporary. Though…
I pick up some more porridge on the fork, bring the squirrel, it opens the beak ... And then the poplar stirred. With a loud croak from the depths of the crown, an adult bird flies to the lower branch. Yeah, mom showed up.
With an unsteady hand, I throw the porridge into my beak and look around the tree: is it time to crawl out on my belly. It seems like time. The tree moves harder and croaks louder. A gust of wind displaces leaves and thin branches for a moment and discovers about 6 more adults. So, I'm under surveillance.
“I'm leaving, I'm leaving,” I inform the tree, scrubbing the porridge to the ground (later, it was pleasure to glue it on yard pigeons).
All. Post delivered.
Later, while bustling around the house, I observe how one of the ravens on earth is already instructing his offspring. He obediently jumps to the right, to the larch, along the way he rests in the middle of the road (fortunately, cars do not drive around the yard) and near a children's swing.Two neighboring children - a boy of about 7 and a little older - everyone strives to talk with a little girl, I warningly go to the balcony: they say, I see you. It’s just that earlier I managed to explain to them that it was a flight, that it was under observation, that it’s better not to touch it without need, otherwise you can get it with your beak in your forehead ... Children are curious ...
Even later, when the yard was already empty, in the grass under the larches he jumped a fawn, and two crows were sitting on the lower branch of a tree.
My sister on the phone said that it would be better to feed slet-ravens with raw minced meat. Well, excuse me, crows, I did not have time to defrost the minced meat. Carrr!