…and helps himself to some apples; crow beaks are no joke. I feel like I told this story on this blog already, but WordPress’s search function sucks, so I’ll tell it again. I found an injured crow, when I was like 10 or 12, and our friend Pat Oldham let me rehab him under her wildlife license. Anyway, Moonshadow (like I said, I was 10) didn’t like 90% of the stuff we had to do to him, like putting neosporin on his wing and dusting him with anti-mite dust–which is how I found out those beaks are strong as screwdrivers and sharp as boxcutters. We ended up having to rubber-band his beak shut when we did medical stuff, and he would still caw with his beak shut in the most indignant fashion, like Mmmmh! MMMMMH! My father patiently chickenwired over the dog run in the backyard so Moonshadow could hang out there when he was feeling better and eat dog kibble, which I swear is what Pat told us to feed him. But then my mom had to go around to all the neighbors and apologize for the random crow cawing his head off in our backyard at 6 am every morning, with the promise that he’d be gone in a few weeks, which he was. We released him in a nature preserve by the mountains when he was well enough to flap up into the piñons and get away from coyotes. Fare thee well, Moonshadow. And God bless my parents for putting up with all my crazy shenanigans.
Anyway, back to Gosha: He also gets some little biscotti-dough snacks from Aziza while she cooks. And, I’ll have to try to make those spicy honey-roasted almonds; they look delish.
The Rookery 
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