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We had a surprise snowfall in the middle of November, 1996, but that was really the least of our concerns. Jaime's pet crow, Mimic, was missing. Peter and I thought he had fallen victim to one of the merlin hawks patrolling the area. Jamie was inconsolable, although she desperately hoped that maybe he had migrated, not died.
She had raised him from the ugliest little squab you could imagine to a glossy adult bird, and he had spent much of his life flying to her shoulder or outstretched arm whenever she was outside. He made a striking picture against her coppery head of hair. He even went so far as to take walks with her, if she walked slowly enough. He also walked around the hot tub rim if she and her friends were inside the tub. He was irresistibly curious, and made off with many of my kitchen spoons, to say nothing of a card of earrings which he found on my windowsill. When we innoculated the goats, we had to watch our syringes. Fixing cars with him around would guarantee that a few nuts and bolts would be missing shortly. Our neighbour Jonathan repaired his cars with blankets shrouded all around him, but Mimic would lift a corner and walk into the improvised tent with him. He rode the mirrors of our cars down the driveway and then flew back up.
He had also become a "community bird" in our four-family mountain habitat. He usually started his day accompanying Fred back from the generator shed when he started the power, collecting breakfast from Miri on the way. Then he was off to Lorraine and Jonathan's, where he would be sure to get some rations from Andrea (Jaime's constant companion). He knew there was no point in trying to get Jaime's attention before 9 a.m., so he would perch on our bedroom window and let us know it was high time to wake up. Crows make a penetrating, raucous noise, and Mimic was no exception.
Then, about two weeks ago, he inexplicably disappeared.
This Saturday, a 12-year-old girl with shoulder-length red hair was playing on the Yale Secondary School yard when a black crow flew onto her shoulder. When she went home, he followed her and ate peanuts from her hands. She "happened" to be from our home school group and had seen Jaime feeding the baby crow when we were practising A Midsummer Night's Dream with the Homeschool Drama Group. When we received a phone call asking us if we were missing a crow, we couldn't believe it, and drove down immediately to get him. When we got there, about five miles away "as the crow flies", Mimic flew straight to Jaime.
That night, I said to Jaime, "I guess you've been praying, eh?"
She said, "All the time. Mom, I always kind of believed in miracles, but now I really believe in miracles."
When you think of the odds of the crow flying to one of the few people in a city of 100,000 people who actually knew we had a pet crow, we have to acknowledge that we also believe in miracles, and we thank God for his safe return.
Joyce Kehler lives in Abbotsford, B.C. and attends Highland Community Church.
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