Edgar, The Insufferable

Today it hit me why Edgar (who packs quite a feathered sledgehammer!) came into my world.  For years, for some unfathomable reason, I've drawn crows.  One would think, because of the parrots in my life, and because of their jewel-like colouring begging to be painted, that they are the ones which would people, rather bird, my sketchbook.   But no, although I have drawn the odd galah and scaly-breasted, a crow is my bird of choice. 

And so one chose me, in a plausible demonstration of sympathetic magic.  Which is a good a way as any to lead into an Edgar update.  In short, he's doing very well.  He's fed as often as he wails for food and is in glamorous black plumage.  He has a bath every few days when I put the birdbath in his aviary to keep his black top hat and tails in tip top condition. 

But he's also becoming somewhat overbearing, or should I say overcrowing.  When I'm under the gazebo, at the bird table, trying to make up everyone's feed in the morning, or dismantling it in the afternoon, he's walking all over the coop cups, stealing the green scratchie used to scrub the water dishes, nicking the plastic coated wire used to affix Dimitri's water dish to the mesh.  Marching with his size 14 dirty crow feet over and through everything I'm trying to do, while keeping up a continuous grumbling complaint.   I've taken to picking him up, which he hates, and dropping him onto the ground.  Of course he doesn't hit the ground as he can fly but at least he's off the table.

When I put the food out in the morning, despite the fact that he has been fed first (and sat with and cajoled just to make sure he's had enough and he's full), he follows me from aviary to aviary, landing with a solid thump (a delicate ballet dancer he ain't) on top of the cages.  Poor Dimitri and the budgies don't cope as well as the galahs to his heavy footed marches across the aviary roof.  The galahs watch, raise their crests, sometimes give little cries of alarm but Dimitri flops to the ground (with one wing he has no choice but to flop) and scurries for a cover that isn't there.  I have put a large solid tin box (that won't disintegrate in the rain)  on the aviary floor which he has used once or twice so maybe he's getting the idea.  The budgies fly from one end of the aviary to the other while Edgar races across the top chasing them.  (He has a similar reaction to the advent of a blow fly, this fevered excitement and giving chase.  Of course, like the budgies protected by wire, a blowfly easily outmaneuvers him).

Edgar frequently puts things in things.  He picks up bits of bark or a stick or food, if I let him, and puts it in whatever hole he can find, even if the hole is one he makes at the base of a grass clump.  Cracks in the concrete, the holes in a brick, the hole in a screw-on food dish, the gap between my toes - anything where he can push his prize in with his surprisingly strong beak.

The other day he had a conversation with a crow and flew off in its direction.  Here we go, I thought, he's made contact.  But he was soon back with no crow in tow.  I feel bad sometimes as it is obvious he is often trying to tell me something important that has nothing to do with food.  But I, being a thick human,  have yet to translate what he says with such fervour.    Which is all quite sad.  I spend a fair amount of time with him if I can.  He seems to like having his head massaged and seems to relax while my fingers back stroke his head feathers.  Edgar makes it obvious when he doesn't want me to leave by running/flying in front of me as I head to the house.  One misstep would be disastrous so I am very careful.

When I am working outside I hope he will hang around then for companionship but as working outside usually means I have something in my hand;  a rake, a bucket, a wheelbarrow, a chipping hoe, he doesn't come near me.  Guess crows have been prosecuted so long by long narrow exploding things, it is hardwired into them to stay away. 

Wonder what would happen if I started drawing elephants?