Something to Crow About

I’m going to set up a crow attack hotline. It is mainly for people who have been traumatized by crows but it could also be a potential entertainment source (callers could listen to horrific anecdotes by people who have been attacked by these surly beaked monsters.)
The inspiration budded when I walked in my door two days ago and my room mate, Robyn, dropped everything and ran to me looking completely traumatized. “Kimie! I was attacked by CROWS!” My immediate reaction was to laugh, but then I remembered my crow-stalkers from Victoria last year (See: ‘Crows’, previous facebook message) and decided that crow encounters should not be taken so lightly. I listened to her story intently.

Apparently she was on Beatty Street, just east of Smythe on the edge of Yaletown. It’s not such a sketchy neighbourhood. The lawns are mowed, the sidewalks are squeaky clean. There is no apparent scruffiness or evidence of rats. Unlike the Downtown East side that I walk through everyday (“How was your day Kimie?” “It was awesome! I didn’t get mugged!”) it is a decent neighbourhood. If neighbourhoods were men, you’d bring this one home to meet your mom.

So anyway, she was skipping along (I imagine) minding her own crow-free business when one flew down and grabbed her hair! It swooped up and landed on an awning and Robyn, a little flustered and distressed, kept walking. Then it did it again! Now, grabbing hair is NOT pecking out eyeballs, but it is still a blatant invasion of personal space. Unharmed, but majorly weirded out, she continued walking. That’s it. Creepy crows! Things like this happen in other neighbourhoods, but not Yaletown.

After she told me this story, we speculated for a moment about why a crow would dive bomb her. Maybe her hair looks like good nesting material (it sure does! In many a bird-like moment I have been tempted to nest in it myself.). Also, crows like shiny things, and her hair is shinier than the shiniest thing you can think of (which in my case is Robyn’s hair, hence the lack of simile). Having come up with the two most logical reasons, we continued on to crow-less conversations.

So that happened two days ago. Then yesterday, on my way home from work kitty-corner to where Robyn’s crow-attack occurred, I saw a well-dressed gentleman crouching beneath a spindly sidewalk tree and cursing to himself, touching his head and looking up. Perched above on the branches were two crows. People were walking by this man giving him strange looks: in Gastown it’s not unusual to see a man crouched and mumbling to himself, but to see it in Yaletown raises eyebrows. Especially since he was wearing the socially protective uniform of a business suit. Things like that just don’t happen to guys in suits! Of course, two crows were perched above him. Instead of asking if he needed help I booted it home so as not to get attacked by the crows myself. I was hungry and exhausted, and while I thought it was strange, I can honestly say that the episode was wiped from my mind.

Until today, that is, when I was whistling on my walk to work and for once I wasn’t late or frazzled. In fact, I was quite content because I’d made myself a nutritious pile of hot sauce slathered eggs for breakfast and had a fairly easy day ahead of me at work. As I was walking along, smelling the roses and skipping (metaphorically), I stopped dead in my tracks, for I looked up to see a bird perched on an awning, staring at me. Surely there are many crows in Yaletown, but how many of them hold a hostile ‘Im-gonna-attack-you!’ expression? (Figure 1: Actual mental picture) IT WAS THE EVIL CROW!!

I started walking faster and covered my head, maintaining eye contact with the bird. And would you believe that it swooped down and grabbed my hair? Not once but TWICE!! I started running, scared for my life. Two business-suit clad gentlemen gave me quizzical looks as I ran towards them from down the block. They were both dragging along suitcases on wheels and kind of slowed down as I approached them. “A crow attacked me down there!” Out of breath, I pointed at the site of torment. Then I kept running. Last I saw I looked back and the two men had stopped completely, scared to continue on.

The tickle and scratch of the crow’s claws still fresh on my scalp, I pulled out my phone. I had to talk to someone about this. But who? Robyn had biked to work and probably wasn’t there yet, but I figured I would leave a message. This was far too important for a text message. I had a voicemail message all ready, but to my surprise she picked up: “I was just attacked by a crow!” I screamed. “Oh my God!” she retaliated. I recounted the last few minutes to her over the phone and felt like I really had someone to connect with over this issue; someone who really understood the trauma I was going through. Someone who had also felt those little avian claws get tangled in their hair for one distressing moment. Yet, if the same thing had not happened to her only a few days prior, would she have been so understanding? So empathetic? The answer is NO she would NOT HAVE. Hence why there is a need to create my Crow-Attack hotline. And for all you people who think this is not a serious matter, just wait until you get attacked by a crow and have no one to turn to. I can’t help feeling for that poor man in a business suit, (the one I completely ignored) who is surely out there wishing he had a Crow-Attack hot-line to call. And if any of you out there ever get attacked by a crow, please give me a call. I know exactly how you feel.