Jamie the Corbeau

Last Friday, my boyfriend sent me a text as he walked to work. There are huge tall trees he passes every day. He passed a crows body, happened to glance down at him. The crow blinked at him.
Crows don’t have outside lids like we do. They have a white film that shutters across their eyeball.
The crow was fucked. Proper fucked.
“I tried to help a crow that broke his two wings. He was on the ground looking at me like “shit, shit, shit!” I couldn’t do anything so I put them in the shadow in the park. It was horrible.”
He used the scarf wrapped around his neck to pick up the crow. He threw the scarf away afterwards. He has to go buy a new scarf.
My reaction was to ring someone, to get some help for him. Unfortunately, there isn’t a whole lot of help here. We debated back-and-forth for an hour of what we should do.
“And he looked pretty hurt… I have no idea how we can help him : (“
“protect him from been eaten by a cat…” I sent back.
“Okay meet me with a box near the road after the park… In 20 minutes”
That’s how I walked back home on an absolute scorcher of a day with a teenager crow in a box.
I fed him some water.
My boyfriend spent the day looking for anyone who could help us. I went to work and got the name of a fantastic vet clinic. They give us a number.
Saturday. We rang. They would collect him for us. My boyfriend had figured out that it was the crows hips that were broken. Not his wings. We worried that if we gave him to someone they would kill them. But the place is volunteer orientated, CSOL.
I named him Jamie. It works if he is a boy or girl.
Researching injured crows I was surprised at the sheer number of opinions that advised: “let Mother Nature take care of them”.
If you are a person who believes that Mother Nature take cares of her own. That if you pass a bird or an animal in distress while you are out and about, you will walk past them without a second glance. That’s fine. Some will call you heartless. I don’t. That’s your Mother Nature telling you what to do.
My Mother Nature told me in no uncertain terms that I could leave that bird to die a miserable death by the heat of the sun or the claws of a cat. My Mother Nature told me that this bird would die. I wanted his last few hours as comfortable as possible.
He survived the night. He was feisty as we gave him a sponge bath. He shat all over my plastic-lunch-bag protected hand.
The French for crow is “corbeau” which translates as beautiful body.

I’ve hit 80K in my work in progress. I now have a successful routine. I write 1K Mon – Fri. Two days off for my brain to turn off.
The last two weekends I’ve done marathons of Sims. Yes, I agree, I am a sad nerd. The only game that I’m good at. I don’t cheat… Because the keyboard on the laptop doesn’t work. I can’t type in the codes!
I started therapy again. Cognitive behaviour therapy. It is exactly what I need.
Last week, I learned something valuable. In Ireland, with my family, I used to keep the peace. Try very hard to never rock the boat. Be the mediator between everyone. Make everyone happy.
By behaving this way I lost who I was. I forgot my values. My beliefs. Me.
The choice I must make Every Single Time I interact with my family: do I do what they want me to do, to keep the peace? Or do I stick by my values?
The answer seems easy. Up until you’re faced with a crying 50-year-old woman sobbing about how awful a human being you are doing this to them.
At that point, I must remember, it’s her choice to behave this way. Not my responsibility. I am an adult. If she continues to try and make me uncomfortable, I will walk away.
I choose my values. Me.


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