URBAN BESTIARY

“Wild Things” brought back a flood of memories of one of our most enjoyable and memorable pets: Josh, a black crow my father snuck home one day without my mother knowing about it.

Within a few months, Josh had his own “house” a makeshift cage set in our backyard. He would wake us up at 5:30 cawing for food, so Dad would throw out frozen balls of cheap hamburger to shut him up and keep him busy. After a while, he learned to say “Mama”--from my sister and me yelling to our mother--and “hi” from my sister’s patient efforts. He would wait for my sister to come home from school: That was time for him to play. He would “smoke” a bubble pipe for her, put a pen in his mouth and scribble on paper and, in the summer, look for a few bare toes to peck at.

After Josh’s wings grew back (we had clipped them) he would fly overhead and race the neighborhood kids on their bikes. Most of them were very gentle with him; some weren’t. The kids on the next block threw dirt clods with rocks in them, and when he had enough of it, he would dive bomb them in return. One day, he did it to the wrong child, and she (his mother) came over threatening to shoot him next time she saw him. So the Fish and Game Department had to come and take him away up to the mountains. We wonder whatever happened to him.

REBEKAH ROSAS, Huntington Beach