Most encounters between wild animals and humans typically end badly. And if they don’t, well then you have on amazing story to share. Well my story is a bit different. I was attacked by a crow. It isn’t glamorous and there are no scars to show, but the fact is, in one summer afternoon my life was changed by a big, black, angry crow.
One of my earliest memories is walking away from my house. I can hear my mom saying to me, “KK, don’t go on that side of the street.” I was only about 3 or 4 years old and I remember it so vividly. We lived at the top of a cul-de-sac and I was heading a few houses away to my friend Kristin’s house to play. Why my mom did not stop me, I still don’t understand. I have always been extremely determined and so maybe she was trying to foster independence. Perhaps she simply couldn’t conceive what would happen next.
Perched on the The Temple’s mailbox was the largest crow I have ever seen. Even now, I have yet to encounter such a mammoth bird close up. As I got closer, I remembering feeling I had made the wrong choice leaving my house. But, my childhood bravery set in so I stopped and began to talk to the bird. I can remember saying, “Hello, Mr. Crow, please don’t hurt me.”
The next thing I heard was my oldest sister who was yelling from her friend’s house across the street, “Nooo, KK- Runnnnn!” My glace went from my sister, back to the crow. In one full swoop, he came at my head. I can still hear his wings flapping as he was clawing at my hair and cawing, and cawing, and cawing. Then – as fast as he swooped- he was gone.
Within seconds my mom had picked me up. Suddenly both of my sisters were there too, screaming and crying along with me. I remember being completely and utterly terrified. I remember being carried back to my house, but after that… not much else is clear. According to my parents, animal control was contacted, There is a vague memory of a man sitting on his car on the cul-de-sac with a hunting rifle pointed at the sky. My sisters tell stories of how I wore a parka with a hood tied tight for the duration of the summer. But my own next memory isn’t until kindergarten.
More than 30 years later, I am puzzled by that day. Why did I stop to talk to the bird? Why would a crow attack me? Are they even know to attack humans? And searching the internet would only lead me to believe that I am now connected to mystical underworld of sorcery and magic- so far from the realm of possibility. Still, I am left to wonder. Over the years, crows seem to show up in my life at important moments. Now, I can’t help but think it is the same crow.
He came back on May 8, 2002 in the early morning. It was the first anniversary of my mother’s passing. He was perched on the lowest branch near a tree where I had parked my car and he watched my every move until I drove away. The first week I moved in with my husband in our new home, he came again, this time watching me from the roof across the street. Most recently, in my last month of pregnancy, he appeared on my back deck and sat with me silently in the sun. More than 30 years later, I secretly wonder when I will see my crow again.
