When I “walked the dog” this evening, Nevermore was still there. He’d moved a couple feet here and there to get out of the way, but he was still basically in the same place for the last 24 hours. A couple feathers sticking out from his right wing, he had that newborn fuzz on the top of his head.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I decided I would save him.
Luckily, at the exact moment that I decided a rescue was in order, I got a tweet from @jwissick.
@neptonia For nevermore, you should look at http://www.peninsulahumanesociety.org/services/wild.html They can help
I called and no one answered. The message said they closed at 6.
I grabbed a cat carrier and the dog’s towel and drove out to capture Nevermore.
He was still in the same spot. I opened the cat carrier and set it in front of him. I put it closer and closer until the entrance was at his feet. Then I left it there for a minute. He blinked at me a few times, but didn’t move. He just sat there looking sad and lonely. Like he needed to be rescued. But there were no knights in shining armor, just a princess in jeans and a frilly white coat. He didn’t mind.
We all could use a rescue now and then.
I didn’t really think he was going to just walk into a cat carrier filled with Pablo’s fur, so I used the towel to coax him from behind. I used it as a curtain behind him to push him into the carrier without touching him. Not that it really mattered because the towel is Perl’s so now he would smell like cat and dog instead of human.
He went into the carrier willingly. I closed it up. He squawked a few times. I put him in the car.
Nevermore’s adventures in the human world began.
I covered the cage with the towel so it would be warm and dark and inviting. I looked at the clock. Only 1740! I’d thought it was already after 6, but turns out, it was early. So I called back and got the address. Typed it into Google Maps on my iPhone, and we drove like the wind.
I found Foothill College, but I could not find Building D. I looked for signs. I drove around in circles. I scraped my front bumper in a large pothole. I decided to walk. So Nevermore, in the soft-sided cat carrier in which Pablo flew under my airline seat, and I walked around campus. Nevermore is much lighter than Pablo.
I finally found a map. Oriented myself and located Building D. We walked all around it. Classrooms. Bathroom. Fire Department. Don’t ask, I don’t know.
I’d left my phone in the car. So we went back and I called again. Listened to the whole voicemail message and realized they had said Building B. So we went back into campus and circled Building B. More classrooms. More bathrooms. No fire department.
With a new sense of failure and unsuredness about what to do next, I called one last time and left a message explaining that I could not find the building. And I started to drive home.
Before we could leave campus, my phone rang. Turns out, I was looking for Building V and that Google Maps gave me the South Entrance, but I needed the North Entrance. I was also happy to learn that they were really open until 1900, so I wasn’t really late. I still apologized profusely.
And then Nevermore squawked.
“Sounds like you have a crow in there.”
Yes. A common crow. Nevermore isn’t really a raven. This bleeding-heart princess was rescuing a crow. I was just hoping, that like the ugly duckling, he would be more than he seemed. But no, he was just a crow. I was rescuing a crow.
I am not a bird racist.
We all could use a rescue now and then.
Nevermore and I finally found the Wildlife Care Center. I explained how he had been in the same general area for 24 hours and was barely moving. She kept asking if he is a fledgling. A fledgling? Well, he had some fuzzy stuff on the top of his head still. I wasn’t quite sure what a fledgling was.
The attendant said she would take a look, but I should wait because I might need to return him.
Return him? Seriously. Did I just rescue a bird that didn’t need rescuing? I bird that was going through the normal teenage passage of learning to fly and fend for itself?
I filled out the paperwork while I was waiting. Then she brought back the carrier.
“Nice carrier.” she says.
“Thanks. I like it.”
“He pooped in it.”
“It’s okay. I can clean it.”
I still didn’t know if he was still in it or not. She finally explained that he is a fledgling, and normally she would tell me to put him back under a bush, but he is really underweight and looks like he’s been abandoned for a while. So she will keep him.
Vindication. I saved an abandoned crow.
He will live. He will learn to scavenge for food. He will squawk in the mornings. He will fly.
He will live free.