The other day, I mentioned crows, which brought up some interesting responses. My cousin told me how our Grandpa and Grandma Fitzpatrick had a pet crow of sorts that lived on the farm. Someone had split its tongue so it could talk. It wasn't kept captive, but hung around the farm, picking up human speech, and evidently would spout off some phrases once and awhile. That sparked a memory from Mike Rustad...
We love crows in Vermont too. They are intelligent, loyal, and wonderful birds. I love them and feed them! Ever since the Diamond's crow Cheer (named because he like Cheerios) graced our life, I've loved crows. He was an amazing pet crow that would sometimes take crackers from my baby sister's hand. Very gently. But Harvey Diamond had a lot of neighbor complaints and decided to drive Cheer out into the country. He shed a tear, but never fear - When he returned to his home in Humboldt, Cheer was waiting for him. Cheer lived a long life, but died in a tragic accident. He would perch on the Diamond's children's playhouse. One day a burst of wind caused the window to fall on Cheer and he was killed instantly. I remember crying because I lost a my dear bird friend.
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