Daphne's Story - Sneak Previews
Growing Up
I feel so fortunate to have grown up in Jasper National Park, the largest of the mountain parks in the Canadian Rockies: abundant wildlife, a vast and stunning landscape of towering peaks, glimmering glaciers, turquoise lakes and rugged rivers; a UNESCO World Heritage Site, attracting visitors from around the globe.
Lake Living
Summer was such a fun and active time for everyone at Lake Edith as we renewed friendships, shared BBQs and enjoyed beach life and community hikes. And when Rocky became a “member” of the community, he did seem to rock this little world. He was in his glory; I’ll let him tell you most of the detailed details.
Family and community dynamics seemed to change significantly with Rocky’s persistent presence, but “before Rocky”, when summer vacation was over and the other lake residents left to return home at the end of August, life shifted gears for me. There were no friends nearby to spend time with after school or on the weekends (except for my brother, who is four years younger and was such a pain).
Thanks to my parents’ influence and their knowledge of bush lore, I developed an intimate bond with my natural surroundings, much more so than I realized then. Scott and I were given free rein and free range to explore and discover, unintimidated by the wilderness.
Nature was our host, our guide. She nurtured me, providing me with oodles of ideas for poems and short stories, nudging my need for narrative. I spent hours watching birds and animals, the changing sky, the changing light on the mountains, lakes and forests. What was more heavenly – the rainbow of colours when the sun goes to bed, or the soft veil of mauves before it rises at dawn.
Rocky's Sex Life
We never really knew for sure if Rocky was a boy or a girl; it’s nearly impossible to tell them apart. Males are generally larger than females, but we didn’t have another crow up close and personal to whom we could compare him. They both have shimmery iridescent black feathers that collect and reflect the light and colour around them. They both have slightly blue eyes when they’re fledglings. But. A little clue, perhaps: Male crows are supposed to be bossy and brave – so there’s little doubt in my mind that Rocky was a “boy”. He was always showing off, telling everyone what to do (or where to go), and he seemed arrogantly fearless.
Crows are purported to have the same level of intelligence as dolphins and primates, and that is supposed to include how cleverly they build their nests. We weren’t so sure about Rocky’s construction and carpentry skills, however. He did manage the exterior twig frame; he would break the little sticks off larger tree branches and bring them to show Mom – each of them – banging on the kitchen window, displaying them proudly from every angle. Once she smiled and nodded her approval, he would happily shuttle them off to his “nest”. The big problem seemed to be the significant hole in the bottom middle! And we never did see him gather any soft moss, grass or animal hair, needed to line the nest as a means of protecting the young from any sharp prickles.
Learning The Lingos
Rocky could also effortlessly imitate and lecture in the languages and nuances of other bird species, animals, people, and people things. He remembered so many people words (getting his wordsworth) – some (or most) of which cannot be repeated here – and figured out quickly how to use them to get what he wanted. Sometimes it might have been better had he learned to keep his beak shut, to keep from putting his “foot” in it!
At Home
Rocky divided his time at home between chatting and playing with our Labrador, Buddy, and scolding our cagey cat, Pudgy (he, of course, wanted all the affection and attention that was given to her). He seemed to learn “the way of the dog” and developed a “bark” which he effectively used when he and Buddy were terrorizing bears. “Family” was most important to them; they were trying to protect us. No doubt!
One spring, Mom introduced us all to a lovely doe she fondly called Sweet Eyes, who brought along her beautiful fawn; Mom had befriended them when they’d begun visiting our lake property daily. They felt comfortable enough to greet us in the woods or even climb up the back steps to the house, accepting a little nibble or a little pat and soft conversation.
Feeling The Love
Rocky had this way of tilting his head, looking me in the eye intensely, sizing me up – all carefully choreographed. But. I just knew what he was going to ask, had heard it many times before: “Going to share that?” And then he’d distract me so he could quickly steal a bite. His mutterings and snuggles were always heartwarming (except when he whispered bad words or was confessing to something). And I loved listening to him listening to me.
Charming. Innovative. Ultimately manipulative! Angelic little troublemaker.
Experiencing a Rocky Mountain High
Although he usually came when he was called in the evening, occasionally Rocky would be “gone”, and we might not see him for a couple of days. And we wondered: Where did Rocky go? What did he do? (We shuddered to think about the possibilities.) Just as we were about to issue a BOLO, he’d appear, with raucous, never-ending stories, none of which we could make any sense of – it was just constant, repetitive crowalogue and outrageous gesturing. We could only imagine…
Attending Class
Many children experienced his questionable, unscholarly behaviour. He would perch on the sill just outside the classroom window, tapping, rapping (as per Poe), begging the teacher to let him in. If he/she relented and the window opened, Rocky would wheel in, resulting in immediate mayhem: papers flying, much swearing (on his part), much ducking and screaming from the wee students who were being terrorized by this evil, jouncing, winged black thing who kept repeating bad words and then “lifting” and “leaving” with their pencils and erasers.
Pushing His Luck
Rocky was indeed the “crow about town” for a number of years, during which he developed many lasting friendships. However, he also created some frenemies: those who were quite fascinated by his antics and abilities but not quite sure that they totally approved of him. He didn’t seem to understand that he was NOT welcome always, everywhere. Kids did not like him to suddenly alight on their heads or shoulders from seemingly out of nowhere, balancing with his unfolded wings and curlicue claws, sticking there like Velcrow! The bully-boys started pulling at his tail feathers, and he began to peck at people when they went to touch him, in anticipation of that. Not good.
Kelowna Krows
At our little farm in southeast Kelowna, the resident crows – who I strongly sensed were some relation to Rocky – would daily drift in low over the horses, levitating above their feed buckets, waiting for a few wayward oats to fall to the ground. Our dog would try to disrupt this strategy, chasing after them, barking continuously while looking up at them, and then would often run headlong right into the fence! The crows, being much more intelligent, would laugh, calmly circle around and down, and resume the waiting game.
