Sparklies

In light of Gary the Crow's adventures, I was reminded of a writing prompt on a now inactive site called The Clarity of Night, hosted by author colleague Jason Evans. He used images to inspire us to write flash fiction, which we all commented on, and critiqued.

One of his prompts involved a set of cut jewels: one red, one green and one clear. I was instantly taken back to a time when I was about twelve years old, riding my bike along a road that led out of town.

My recent experience with Gary led me to search for that little story, which I submitted WAY back in 2010, and later expanded into a middle grade WIP. I hope to find the file and perhaps expand it further. Here is the original flash fiction entry:

Sparklies

by Sandra Cormier

I tore along Main Street North on my ten-speed, a jockey urging her mount down the stretch. Tightly packed houses became scattered country homes. I stopped to catch my breath and heard the crow before I saw it.

It perched on a split rail fence and regarded me with one yellow eye. It didn't caw – it spoke.

"Sparkle," it said.

My initial disbelief turned to matter-of-fact acceptance. If magpies could talk, why couldn't crows? 

"Are you someone's pet?" I asked.

It responded with unintelligible sounds like a voice from a tinny transistor radio. It hopped along the cedar rail, stopping periodically to watch my progress as I pushed my bicycle in cautious pursuit. At the end of the fence the bird spread its ebony wings and fluttered to the ground, continuing its course into a patch of tall grass.

I laid my bike in the ditch and crawled across the ground. Warm, dry grass pressed crisscross imprints into my palms. Deep in the thatch, something glittered. The crow watched as I pushed the fronds aside.

Nestled in the shadows among toy cars and rusty watches were three gems – blue, red and crystalline.

I gathered them up. "They're not real," I told the crow as I sat in the ditch and watched the late afternoon sunlight bounce from their facets.

"They are." The crow's voice was suddenly clear and deep, and he grew tall enough to block the sun. "They now belong to you."

Gary the Crow

 Wow. It's been a while, huh?

Pandemic aside, I've been struggling with writing and art for the last few years. What with the death of my sister in 2017, and my father's passing a year later, I've been in a bit of a funk. Everybody has been ramming down our throats that blogging was dead, that social media is a cesspool, and the bots and trolls rule the world.

Anyway, I thought I'd jump on today to tell you about Gary the Crow.

A couple of weeks ago, late on a chilly Sunday afternoon, the crows that usually gather in great numbers in the trees across my street were extra loud. I figured they were sounding the alarm because a fox or coyote was in the vicinity. But they kept screaming.

I bundled up and ventured across to see what was the matter. A black splotch high up in the trees proved to be a crow, dangling by one wing from a branch. Its companions were taking turns trying to work it loose, to no avail.

I made a quick call to our local town animal services number, and was directed to an "after hours" guy who promised to pass on the information.

By then, it was getting dark and had started to snow. The dozens of crows reluctantly moved off to their nighttime roost somewhere east of town, and I walked across in the darkness with my flashlight to check if the crow was still there.

It was. Somehow, it had managed to right itself so it wasn't hanging by its wing. But it wasn't moving. I was afraid it had died. I went back inside, promising myself to follow up with Animal Services. In the meantime I had posted in a couple of local Facebook groups to ask if anyone could offer advice. A few members who were arborists asked for details, but I didn't expect any of them to come out in the dead of night. I spent the night in restless sleep, dreaming of the crow. On the Monday morning I woke at first light and went out, equipped with a pair of binoculars, to check its status. The crow was awake and looking about. It had managed to shift to a more comfortable position, but was still stuck. A few other crows, which I imagined were its nuclear family, had returned and were nearby, keeping watch.

After various follow-up posts to my Facebook groups, and another call to Animal Services, some wheels were set in motion. I went across to the office building adjacent to the woodlot and gave their staff a heads up. They kept communication channels open to Animal Services and the Conservation Authority.

A tree service company brought in the big gun: a large lift truck. They sent their guy up with a couple of big towels, and he gently extracted the crow from the tree, wrapped it up, and the Animal Services lady received the bundle. He was pretty feisty, so it looked like he'd be okay. It seemed he had been tangled in string, attached to a stick. Be careful with string, people! Sometimes squirrels and crows take it to augment their nests, but it can be a real hazard.

Gary the Crow (I don't know if it's a boy but that's what I'm gonna name him) was transported to Toronto Wildlife Centre, and I kept in contact with them, receiving updates. His one-week report revealed that he had no broken bones, a small contusion was healing, an eye ulcer (probably due to the strain of trying to free himself) was resolved. He was eating well, decided he liked eggs. Then the next day he decided he didn't like eggs, so he's eating meal worms and peanuts.

He's gaining weight and strength, and will soon be moved to a larger enclosure to practice flying again. But first, some feathers on his affected wing will have to be replaced, using a grafting procedure called "imping." It's a technique that has been used since Medieval times, mostly for falcons used for hunting. 

I'll check again early next week and will be informed when it's time to release him in the same area where he was rescued.

His fellow crows haven't been around the last few days, so I hope he is reunited with his family when the time comes to give him his freedom.

Thanks to Aileen and members of York Region Nature on Facebook, Newmarket Animal Services, Weller Tree Services and Toronto Wildlife Centre, which relies on donations to keep their excellent work going. I suggest giving TWC a donation in Gary the Crow's name at: https://www.torontowildlifecentre.com/donate/one-time-gift/