I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine in more detail; I know I've mentioned them before. They're a family, and I've known them for several years now. The patriarch, Pablo, is a very special guy.
That's why I named him Pablo. You see, he's a crow. Several years ago now I was walking through an area where I didn't often go at the time (it's more on the way to places for me now) and I passed one end of a large and beautiful park. I spotted a big crow hanging out on the lawn so, as I did whenever I encountered a new corvid (well, any corvid), I tossed him a peanut. He seized it avidly and was about to fly way with it but he saw that I had another one so he stuck around. He took and stored away as many peanuts as I would throw down, coming very close to me, and following me a ways with an enthusiastic, rolling hop to get more until I reached the end of his territory. He was super personable and goofy and I loved him.
I wasn't back over there for a solid year. Next time I passed through that area, I was wandering along lost in thought, looking at gables and window displays minding my own business, and suddenly this crow landed right in front of me with a great deal of swish and fanfare, as if we were old friends, expecting
peanuts. Luckily I'm always holding, although these days it's usually cat food, and I was as always happy to share the joy. His instant recognition of me, and acceptance of me as a person, and a generous and probably gullible one at that, made me understand that this was one special crow. Now, I don't like tequila, but I do like Ash vs Evil Dead, and fellow fans will understand why my special crow — my "cuervo especiaal" — is therefore named Pablo.
At first I didn't see him very often, perhaps every few months, and he always managed to sneak up on me so I never saw him flying except out of the corner of my eye. Walking, yes, bouncing, yes, skipping, hopping, sidling, all yes, but not flying. You'll understand shortly why this is important. After about a year my good buddy was joined by a mate, an
unusually large, glossy crow I named, obviously, Kelly. Kelly was smart, Kelly was shrewd, and in that first couple of years that they were together she obviously found bold, in-your-face Pablo and his antics frustrating. Kelly never got particularly close to me physically but when she saw me, she would call, and the others would come — for later, there were others.
While Pablo danced around me grabbing peanuts, cat food, or whatever I was giving up that day and caching it under leaves or grass or trash, Kelly would follow him around, irritatedly removing each stored cluster of food and putting it somewhere she deemed more secure. You could feel her annoyance at his hasty and, in her opinion, poorly chosen hiding places
and at his incaution toward their new benefactor, the hulking monkey-creature distributing sustenance for some reasons of its own and always glaring at them with its giant portable extra eye.
It's around this time that I started to understand the other thing, aside from his personality, that makes Pablo truly special — I thought at the time, unique. What I had assumed had been a couple of particularly severe molts on Pablo's part were actually a feather anomaly of his wings. An anomaly which does not
interfere in any way with his mobility in the air but is absolutely spectacular to look at. Because of his habit of sneaking up on me, I tried for the longest time to get a look at this up close and in the air, and when I finally did I couldn't believe it.
At first I thought it was a problem with the sheaths on the feathers there, that the barbs weren't freed from underneath the covering on feathers when they first grow out from the skin. It really does look like that, as though those sections haven't been preened free of the enclosing layer, but that's not it. I've seen those wings from close enough now, and have enough good photographs, to understand that there simply are no barbs on the feathers there. They just never grew. What's more, it is always the exact same feathers, year after year, molt after molt.
This is just how his wings are. They're not damaged, he doesn't have a feather disease, he hasn't been exposed to any chemicals, it isn't self-harm. I'm dying to find one of those pinions after a molt, sometime, but so far, although I do find crow feathers in the park, no such luck. Although, as I said, I have plenty now, it was another year before I got even the blurriest of photos of his amazing lacy
wings. Lately I've been figuring out how to lure him into coming at me through the air sometimes and I've managed to get a few really good ones. It's tricky, though: he still really likes to swoop in when I least expect it and stand around directly behind my feet unbeknownst to me, so that when I turn around to go I nearly fall over him. Goofy bird. Gonna get one of us hurt that way one of these days.
For the longest time I assumed that Pablo, who, again, flies at least as well as regular crows, had a congenital anomaly.
In other words, I assumed he'd been hatched that way, and he alone, and that was that. But no. After Pablo and Kelly had been together for a year or so, little Eligos came along. Lo and behold, he had it too! Eligos was big, like Kelly, and brash and familiar like Pablo, and his wings every bit as lacy as his dad's. Like his father, he could — and presumably still can — fly at least as well as any other crow. Last year, I saw him a few times in the park with a mate; they've moved on to new stamping grounds now, and I hope to run into them somewhere, someday.
This year, Pablo and Kelly had two babies — or at least, two which made it into juvenilehood so that I could meet them. At first, I thought Eligos had come back for some reason, and that Pablo and Kelly just had one chick again this year, a female which I named Amanda in keeping with the Ash vs Evil Dead theme. Amanda's wings are normal. Quickly I realized that it wasn't Eligos, though; first of all, he isn't big enough nor glossy enough, and second of all the inside of his mouth is still red, indicating a juvenile crow, so this is a new young man in the park. I decided to branch out from the fandom for naming, invoking another one instead, so for obvious reasons, Amanda's brother's name is Todd.
Amanda is just like Kelly. For a few weeks it was hilarious watching her and Kelly frantically run around staying out of arm's reach collecting all of the food the boys were hiding and putting it in "more sensible" places around the park, and we had us some some fun.
It is with deep sadness, however, that I must report that we've lost Kelly. I don't know how or why, or even exactly when, but one week she was there like always and the next week she wasn't, and she's never come back.
I don't think Pablo knows what happened to her either, because he spends a lot of the time now staring at the sky or across the water or flying in circles very high up, unmistakable
with those wings, and if a large bird flies by he briefly gets very excited and then seems disappointed. I hope Pablo's going to be okay; for now, he has the kids, but they will move on. Pablo's top crow in the park, but I don't know if he'll have the heart to hold that position and find a new mate — some do, most don't. I don't think he's more than a few years old, so there's hope; maybe after the kids move on he'll even follow me to my neighborhood, where he would do well among the crows over here.
It's been a few weeks now since we lost Kelly and for now at least, Pablo's doing just fine; yes he has a more melancholy air, but I see him from the bus pulling trash out of the fast food boxes people think it's okay to leave lying all over the place and pitching fits at jackdaws, sitting on the back of a bench at the bus stop with an elderly man (so I'm not his only human friend!), hiding food, and wandering around. I'm out there once or
twice a week, and almost every time, he and Todd and Amanda come and spend some time with me, accept my offerings of cat food, and allow themselves to be photographed. Todd is a clown, and enjoys playing with leaves. They're always very excited to see me, as I them, but of course, they are birds and I am a mere human so usually they see me first.
One time, in fact, before Amanda and Todd but after Eligos moved on, I walked into the park on my way to somewhere or other, and looked around for my buddies, then decided to sit on a bench and enjoy the sun for a while. After 20 minutes or so, I decided my crows weren't going to turn up and as I turned slightly to prepare to stand up I realized that Pablo had been sitting on the bench next to me for I don't know how long.
In fact, my biggest problem with Pablo is that he has trouble staying far enough away from me to allow for good photography. He happily comes well within arm's reach, although under no circumstances would I be able to touch him and he also will not take food from my hand. I wouldn't really have it any
other way; I want my friends to stay wild and safe.
Only time and the luck of being in the right place at that time to witness it will reveal whether or not Todd and Eligos, or for that matter Amanda, can pass on the lacy wings. We know Pablo can, but will he mate again? It's pretty clearly sex-linked, given that Amanda doesn't have it, but this is only one experiment with very few participants. If Pablo remains a widower for life, these may well be the only three crows in the world with wings like this. On the other hand, who knows — maybe Eligos and Todd and Amanda, large and engaging and superintelligent as they are, will populate this region with a new kind of crow. All I know is, they are very dear to me and they are my friends.
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