Edgar

We called him Edgar, as in Edgar Allan Crow.
He came to the rehab center in May, one of four nestlings left homeless when their tree was cut down.
After caring for them and hand-feeding them for about a month, they were moved to an outdoor pre-release cage that would give them room to stretch their wings.
A couple of days later, the crow that became known as Edgar was found on the ground, so weak he could barely lift his head.
We brought him in and he regained his strength, but not to the point where he could ever be released. The hope was that we could keep him as an education animal.
Edgar was never quite right. Several times a day he would end up on his back in the cage. He became adept at righting himself, though, and we hoped he’d eventually get better.
Twice, he was tested for West Nile virus, and twice the tests came back negative. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have it, though. It only means he hadn’t built up enough immunity for it to show up in blood tests.
I looked forward to spoiling him on Sundays. He ate wax worms out of my hand. He rooted through his bowl of fruit until he found his favorites: blueberries and raspberries.
He perched on my knee and I petted him like I would a cat. (We’d never do that with an animal that’s going to be released to the wild. But once we know an animal’s going to be kept for education, we start working with it so it won’t be stressed by crowds.) The blue, nictitating membrane would cover his eye and he’d rock gently on his hackles.
I told him he was a handsome bird, but he wasn’t.
He had scratched most of the feathers off his neck at one time, making him look bedraggled. His other feathers were a mess because he seemed afraid of water and refused to take a bath.
Yet, I couldn’t wait to visit him.
His condition worsened in the past few weeks. Volunteers frequently found him on his back unable to right himself. He stopped vocalizing. In that last week, he looked miserable.
Edgar was euthanized. That’s the last gift can give to a sick animal.
Whenever I walk out my front door and hear the harsh call of crows, I think of Edgar. And how privileged I was to have know him.