MO))) Editor Jun 29, 2011
Larry Lynch Verified #community

Henry Goes To Rehab

Alexander Graham Bell could not have imagined some of the calls that come into my home.

Like this one from my sister: “Wanna come to Moncton?”

“What ya going for?”

“We are taking Henry to rehab. He spent the summer lying around the pool, eating and drinking now he has to go to Moncton to rehab.”

“Okay, when we going?”

“Pick you up in a half hour, long as you don’t mind sharing the back seat with a crow.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! A crow, back seat?”

“Yeah, we have to take Wayne’s crow to rehab. Don’t worry, he will be in a carrying cage in the trunk, but I have to put the back seat down so he won’t get scared and start squawking. You will be able to see him but won’t even know he’s there.”

Oh, this is one for the camera and recorder, I thought.

The things I do in the name of writing.

Soon the little Echo pulled into the driveway. My two sisters in the front seat could hardly contain their laughter. The car looked smaller than ever as I opened the back door, and there looking up at me was Henry, my constant companion for the next hour or so. He lowered his back, raised his head and with disgust emitted a deep "errr" sound.

“Hi Henry,” I grumbled, “Morning ladies. I thought the creature from the dark lagoon was going to be in the trunk?”

“We tried, but Henry was too scared so we had to put him in back with you.” My younger sister glanced in the rearview mirror and grinned.

Henry was the victim of a car accident. On a scorching August afternoon, my brother in law, Wayne, found the mangled creature on the road. He was still alive but wouldn’t be for long as other birds of prey had already begun to claim their cuts of meat. Wayne placed him in the truck box and named the black scavenger Henry.

Henry was given a shelter in the back yard near the pool where he would get lots of sun, Wayne caught flies for his food and made sure he had plenty of water.

By October, Henry was the picture of health, except he couldn’t fly.

With winter coming, Henry could never survive on his own so calls were made.

If he could be transported to the animal rehab in Moncton, and stay there for a few days, he would be taken to Halifax where Henry would live with other injured animals in a suitable environment.

The trip went well for the most part. Henry was a pretty decent travelling companion but got restless often and looking at me suspiciously out of one eye, made noises like my bamboo wind chimes on a breezy day. His other end made noises too. Do crows eat beans?

The two up front giggled and insisted he was just nervous and I should talk to Henry to sooth and calm him.

What do you say to a crow?

“It’s okay, Henry. Are you hungry? I don’t have any flies, just relax, we’ll be in Moncton soon.”  Why did I answer that phone this morning? Henry calmed down with the sound of my voice. Lucky me! Well, how many people do you know get to travel with a crow in close quarters? We never became friends, but he did let me take a picture or two for posterity.

And it all began with a phone call which made lasting memories for the family album.

Oh no! Excuse me, my phone is ringing again…

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