Maynard the Unflighted Fledgling Crow Has An Adventure

Maynard the unflighted fledgling Crow on July 20th at 7:31 PM looking a little worse for wear but much better than he looked earlier in the day.

But lets rewind a number of hours in this particular day.

It was 90 plus degrees, the corn in the fields was so dry it was whorling and there wasn't a hint of a breeze.  I was walking down the  sidewalk on my way to the store when I saw a large bird with limp posture in the shade of a Maple across the street in the Methodist Church's large yard.

Hmmm.  Young Crow?

Indeed, and without much in the way of flight feathers or a tail either.  Getting closer I saw that his eyes looked filmy and he just didn't look good.  And even  though I was in a few feet of him, there were no Crows  in the trees screaming at me to leave him alone.  No extended family minders.  Bad sign.

I advance on young Crow who rather half halfheartedly gambols away.  I don't want to exhaust him with a chase, or leap at him for a grab, but I don't have anything to throw over him.  

About then I notice some sort of workman holding a big green plastic bucket and wearing one of those blaze orange net don't-hit-me-with-your-car alert vests standing on the sidewalk staring at me.

All you can do is ask, right?

"Excuse me, Sir. Could I borrow your vest for a moment to throw over this bird so I can catch him?"

After a quick explanation, the guy who turns out to be named Mike and is obviously a good sport, throws the vest over the Crow himself. I get Crow out of the vest and his bones feel too sharp...mouth and eyes look dry.  Dehydration. 

Mike then says, "Where are you going with him?"    

"My house, over there."  I point.

Mike says, "Want to put him in my bucket?"

This is a grand idea as it will be less stressful for the Crow.

Into the bucket goes young Crow.  Who has yet to vocalize.  Also not a good sign.

In a matter of minutes, Mike who is a big muscled butch kind of guy, with fingers like sausages, (Think Hagrid from Harry Potter) is sitting in the shade with Crow, whom he has already named Maynard, while I go into the house and try to figure out something to hydrate Crow with.

From the look of the little drop of purple feces Maynard has excreted his parents have been feeding him black raspberries or mulberries.  Neither of which I have.

I make some sugar water, grab some applesause, a slice of bread, a piece of lunch meat, a turkey baster and a popsicle stick and back to the yard I go.

Mike is holding Maynard the Crow, who is looking stoic, as in I might die at any moment and I don't care.

I know that young birds get their moisture from food but in this heat obviously Maynard hasn't been getting enough so I get some sugar water in the turkey baster and point it at Maynard who gapes.  Good sign.  In goes a trickle of sugar water.

He swallows. He has some more. I try the bread and the lunch meat.  No go.

Mike gets some applesauce on the popsicle stick and Maynard jumps at it.  Maynard loves applesauce. He can't get enough of it.  Mike keeps presenting it, along with little clucks and soothing sounds and Maynard keeps gobbling.

Maynard is looking better already.

I suggest we put Maynard up in the lilac tree in the shade, where he is out of harms way and see if his parents, or whoever is supposed to be minding him, Crows often live in extended family groups, find him.

We do.  Mike goes back to work, though while I'm keeping an eye on Maynard out the window, I notice that Mike is doing the same as he works across the way.

I keep looking out the window. Maynard is still there. It has been three hours and still there isn't the sound or sight of any adult Crows.  Though Maynard hasn't cooperated and called to get any Crow attention either.  Sigh.

There is a tap tap at the back door.  I open it. There's Mike.  He says, "Got any more applesauce?" 

Armed with more applesauce and the popsicle stick, Mike's out there in the Lilacs feeding Maynard.

Mike gives him another feeding  at dusk.

 Maynard just before he tucks his head under his wing and goes to sleep.

STAY TUNED!  THE ADVENTURES OF MAYNARD THE UNFLIGHTED FLEDGLING CONTINUE!

Donegal Browne

THE CORVID GAME: Crows vs Blue Jays

8 56 40 AM   This is the new stick pile.  It's a slightly different model than the one the sparrows have had for years and this one seems to have attracted a Crow.

And as Crows have a rule that there always has to be a sentinel, here she is on the wire.
 
Stick Pile Crow appears to be giving me the LOOK. 

A small flap climb.

And another look.

Checks the stump.

Landing gear ready.

He looks at the buffet which includes dried corn and dried dog food.  Then suddenly looks up alert.

And flies over to the grape arbor and peers into the Spruce tree.

8:58:51 AM  Then cocks his head, still looking into the Spruce body tensed.

8:59:08AM  And suddenly Crow is no longer there but a rather pleased Blue Jay has taken his perch.

8 59 21 AM  A species rarely known for discretion, Blue Jay hops onto the bird house.

8 59 32AM  Crow comes bombing back to the grape arbor perch from behind the Blue Jay,  and Jay flushes back  toward the Spruce where he nearly collides with his Blue Jay cohort.

8 59 37  There is still a Crow sentinel but she is looking toward the park and now on the wire much closer to the trees and the Jays.

 8 59 41 AM One of the Jays is now in the north Spruce that abuts the first to the south.

 9 00 05  Jay hops down to the woodpile, looks NE.

 9 00 06  And the Corvid Screaming officially begins.  Previously there had been a call from both species here and there, now everyone is calling to everyone else and at every one else.  Its deafening.

 9 00 12  And a Crow flies in over Woodpile Blue Jay's head and lands on the wire west of the Blue Jay's perch.

9 00 39

9 00 39

9 00 39  Note it took less than a second from the first photo where the second Crow is preparing for a landing until  a complete folded wing landing and a look between the two Crows to take place.

 9 00 59  It takes 10 seconds for a Blue Jay to land between them.

 9 00 59  Jay looks at right Crow.

9 00 59   Then left Crow as she begins to turn.

9 01 01 And by two seconds later Blue Jay has rocketed himself into the air in what looks like a sitting position and right Crow is re-balancing herself.

9 01 30  I scan the foliage. Where did everyone go?  There is no screaming.  The games of Blue Jays vs Crows have finished?  The squirrels who took to the trees during the "battle" are still waiting.  So I wait too.

9 02 50  Wait, who should be out on the new stick pile but a Crow, delving for something in the stick bark.  Then Stick Crow takes off toward the northwest.

9 03 12  And now there is a sentinel Crow watching the squirrels come out of the trees.  The same bird as before?  I don't know.

 9 03 31  She takes off in the direction of the previous Crow.

9 03 42 But when sentinel passes over the stick pile a Crow is yet again sitting on the pile.  This time scanning the park.   And so we've circled around to a Crow in the stick pile where we started.

My my, if I'd looked out the window at 8:56AM and seen the Crow,  then gone about my business and looked out the window again, 7 minutes later,  at 9:03AM and seen the Crow.  I never would have known any of it had happened at all.

I'm not sure how this game is scored.  The Crows still hold the yard but the Blue Jays definitely get bragging rights for tweaking the Crows beaks.  

I'm calling it a draw.

Donegal Browne