What are you yelling at me for?! the man protested, his eyebrow shooting up. Im nursing and feeding your wife, and youre raising your voice at me? Honestly, whatever next! They carried on hollering at each other for half an hour, until the bird was hoarse and the man was completely worn out
The man was trudging home after an early shift at the factory, buoyed by the prospect of the weekend ahead. Just the thought of a lie-in made his spirits soar. Not that it was only about the rest on Saturday night he was supposed to finally meet a woman hed befriended online.
Theyd been exchanging messages for a month: chatting about work, discussing hobbies, indulging in slightly philosophical musings about life the usual routine. Now, at last, theyd set a date. All that remained was to ring up the cosiest bistro in town, book a table, and decide what would make him look less like someone who spends his life in overalls.
Ambling along with his head full of happy daydreams, he was nearly at his own little flat in a nondescript block of flats fourth floor, boxy but (for the price of rent) just about cheerful. Only fifty feet to go. For a moment, it felt like he was one step away from a brand-new chapter in life but then
Oh, the infamous but.
Right in front of the entrance, plummeting out of a tree hed never once bothered to notice, landed a crow at his feet. The bird was flailing and squawking as though the apocalypse had arrived, and above him a whole mob of crows were turning the branches into a scene from a Hitchcock film.
Oh, brilliant, muttered the man. Just what I needed.
The crow struggled valiantly to stand, only to tip over at once. Her right leg was clearly injured, sticking out at a rather unfortunate angle.
So, what am I meant to do with you, then? he sighed aloud.
Pretending he hadnt seen her was not an option. With a resigned sigh, he slipped off his jacket, gently scooped the bird up mindful of angry cawing from above and headed for the entrance. The neurotic cries behind him made it sound as though hed snatched Big Ben itself.
Indoors, he gingerly unwrapped his patient only to have her clamp her beak furiously onto his finger.
Oh, for goodness sake! he exclaimed, stifling a wince and fashioning a beak-muzzle out of a tea towel, as delicately as one can when wrestling a displeased crow.
Veterinary clinics had no advice We dont do birds, mate. Friends were equally unhelpful. Then inspiration struck: he was a dab hand at tinkering surely he could cobble together something for a bird.
He found a low cardboard box, lined it with towels, and set his feisty new charge on the sunny windowsill. He named her Clara on the spot.
For the next couple of hours, he whittled a splint from two bits of wood, carved a groove with his penknife, and secured the contraption with electrical tape. He freed her beak.
Clara immediately tried to bite him again.
Steady on, he muttered. Honestly, Im only trying to help you. Now, food and drink thats next, isnt it?
Google informed him crows thrive on grubs and worms, which meant detouring to the fishing tackle shop for maggots, and the chemists for tweezers and a syringe. Returning home, he braced himself for a wrestling match.
He had to prise open her beak and stuff in the protein, followed by a bit of water with the syringe. Clara spat, cawed, and aimed repeated pecks at his fingers while he complained, but soldiered on. Eventually, both were exhausted; Clara finally dropped off to sleep, and so did he.
Morning brought a repeat of the ritual: feeding, squawking, stubborn glares from all parties concerned. And then, outside on the windowsill, he noticed a large, glossy crow clearly a male watching intently.
Almost without thinking, the man opened the window.
I suppose youre Claras husband, are you? Come on in, then. See for yourself, Im just trying to help.
The big crow cocked his head, eyeing up Clara, and, after a moments deliberation, strode majesterially into the room.
Clara gave a faint rasp. Her partner turned to the man, fluffed up his feathers, and let loose a barrage of caws.
Are you seriously shouting at me? the man replied, affronted. Me! The one playing nurse and chef for your missus! Thats gratitude, that is!
They shouted at one another man and crow for a solid thirty minutes, until the bird was reduced to a croak and the man was ready to collapse.
Eventually, the man simply set two boxes in front of the visitor: one with maggots, one with worms. No need for speeches.
The crow inspected the offerings like a connoisseur, then tucked in. The man snorted: Help yourself, why dont you? Of course, youre the real reason I went shopping.
After eating, the crow sidled to Clara and gently preened her battered feathers.
Well, would you look at that… said the man, with surprising tenderness. So, you two are devoted. Dont worry, mate Ill get your Clara back on her feet. Just persuade her to stop biting me and eat like a sensible bird, will you?
That night, the crow flew off. In the morning, he was back tapping the glass until he was let in, checking on Clara, and calmly joining them for breakfast.
Morning, grinned the man. Seems were starting to understand one another.
He fed Clara, delivering persuasive speeches against pecking, while her husband watched with dignified silence.
Suddenly, the man froze.
Oh, blimey, he groaned, clutching his head. Shes waiting! I didnt call I didnt book the table
He snatched his phone and dialled the number.
Im terribly sorry he began and explained all about the crow drama, and why dinner arrangements had gone out the window.
So, a random crow is more important to you than seeing me?! the woman interrupted, wounded.
No, no Its just you dont understand. This matters. It just worked out this way
Well, go live with your crow, then! she snapped, hanging up.
Thats that, then, he sighed heavily, addressing the crow. Dates over before its even begun.
Right then and there, the big crow hopped up onto the table, puffed his chest, stretched his wings, and strutted around with theatrical bravado.
The man couldnt help but laugh: Not sure if you get a word I say, but youre cheering me up. Is this your way of telling me to keep my chin up?
At that moment, the doorbell rang. On the doorstep stood the upstairs neighbour a friendly woman from the fifth floor with a smile warmer than central heating.
Sorry to bother you, she began, a bit self-conscious, but theres been a flock of crows circling your windows for days. Everything alright? Havent been turned into a scarecrow, have you?
Its not easy to explain, he hesitated. Come in, youll see.
She came inside and stopped short.
Well, would you look at that Youre rescuing a crow?
Clara, he corrected.
Then her gentleman can be Carl, she said, laughing the kind of laugh like small rain against a window.
He realised, watching her, that he hadnt heard a prettier sound in ages. He looked at her and thought, forget that date-that-never-was.
Carl spread his wings, strode pompously along the table, and the neighbour laughed again.
From then on, things got easier. Carl was clearly quite taken with the guest, preening himself and edging closer every time she appeared, while she giggled and blushed. Clara, gradually realising everyone wished her well, stopped protesting and began eating on her own. Suddenly, her recovery sped up. The man even trusted his neighbour with a spare key; when he was out, shed come and look after Clara.
He liked the neighbour more and more, and just as he gathered courage to ask her out, something rather dramatic transpired.
Late one evening, after a double shift, he set off home, clutching a small velvet pouch lunchtime had seen a wild dash to the jewellers for a present: a silver necklace with a tiny red heart for the lady upstairs.
He walked along, grinning at the thought of giving it to her when, under a lamp post, two blokes blocked his way.
Hand over your wallet, phone, and watch! said one, waving a knife.
And the coat, mate! added the other.
The man barely had time to flinch before the sky exploded into shrieks and feathers. A huge, black, feathery cloud descended. Screams not from him filled the air. Dozens of beaks battered the two assailants mercilessly. The crows had come to the rescue.
He ran all the way home, heart pounding, but in the morning
His neighbour stood on his doorstep, white as a sheet, shaking.
Youre alive! she exclaimed, flinging her arms around him. I thought I heard, and I thought
What happened? he asked, softly stroking her hair.
Last night a lot of crows attacked two men nearly pecked them to death. Theyre in hospital now in a right state.
He smiled, suddenly remembering.
I have something for you.
Oh! You didnt have to she stammered.
But when he produced the necklace, she beamed and kissed him on the cheek.
Its lovely. Thank you, she said, reaching for it but then…
Oh, those familiar buts!
Carl, like a lightning bolt, swooped in and neatly pinched the sparkling treasure from the mans hand. He landed beside now-recovered Clara and presented her his prize with much ceremony.
The man and his neighbour burst out laughing.
Ill get another, he promised.
Carl stretched out his wings, puffed his chest, and gave a triumphant Caw! Clara delicately took the necklace and stashed it in her box.
And the man and woman kissed right there on the doorstep.
And really, what does it matter?
This sort of thing its a family affair, after allFrom that day, it seemed as if the crows had appointed themselves guardians of the little flat and its inhabitants. If anyone lingered too long on the pavement, Carls inky silhouette would appear on the windowsilla hulking, watchful sentinel. Inside, Clara reigned from her towel-lined box like a dowager queen, her necklace occasionally glimmering atop her jet feathers.
Spring arrived: the air sweetened, windows stayed open, and laughter drifted up and down the stairwell. The man and his neighbour, now hand in hand more often than not, found themselves flooded with invitationsthank-you notes from neighbours whose windowsills had mysteriously been cleared of dead leaves, whose lost earrings reappeared in gift-wrapped bundles of grass and string. Even the cat from Flat 1 stopped hunting songbirds, seemingly cowed by the crows relentless supervision.
One bright Sunday, with Clara finally hopping around the living room, the whole little familyman, neighbour, crowsgathered for a picnic in the park. Carl, in his top-hatted way, perched on the mans shoulder, while Clara croaked regally from the breadbasket, necklace gleaming. They shared sandwiches and idle stories, watched by an audience of black-feathered friends, each bird tucking into crumbs with studied politeness.
When dusk fell, the man lifted Clara to a low branch and stepped back. She looked at him, cocked her head, then caught the last slice of sunlight on her necklace andswift as thoughttook off into the growing dark, Carl soaring close behind. They wheeled once overhead, cawing down like victory bells, then vanished into the bellies of the trees.
The man slipped his hand into the neighbours, breathless and a little sad, but more full of hope than ever. Above them, the crows began their evening chorus, a wild, jubilant racket like the citys own heartbeat.
From that night on, when the streetlamps first blinked to life, two crows could always be seen on the railingsone with something bright at her throat, the other never far behind. And every time the couple came and went, the birds would call out greetings: wild, joyous, unmistakable.
The man laughed. Looks like well always have babysitters, he said.
Or friends, the neighbour whispered, squeezing his arm as they climbed the steps homeguarded, celebrated, and, for the first time in a long while, exactly where they belonged.
