Midnight
And the reason I'm not fond of cats

When I was five or six I found a young crow that had an injured wing. I named him Midnight and kept him in a box with feed and water. I also gave him a lot of attention. We became pretty good buddies and he soon recovered from his injury. He was a constant companion and would ride on my shoulder.

I've heard stories of crows that could talk but though he never quite managed that feat, he could sure kick up a fuss when we got too close to a cat or some other critter he didn't trust. One time, while I had Midnight, some neighbors were visiting with Mom and Dad in the yard. I had just returned from getting the cows in to be milked (we separated the milk with a hand-cranked separator and sold the cream). Anyway, I walked up to them with Midnight and the lady really made a fuss about the crow sitting on my shoulder.
She asked me, "Will he sit on my shoulder?"
I said, "Sure, if I put him there."
As I placed him on her shoulder, I started to tell her that there was just one thing though when he's nervous he might have an accident. Sure enough, about that time he did. She took it okay but never wanted that bird on her shoulder again.

The neighbors had recently moved back from California and rented land in the next section by us. He was a Greyhound bus driver in California but missed Oklahoma and farming. They had a boy about my age with a younger girl about my Sis' age. I remember I was always messing around with a rope and so he got one too, but his mom took his away because he kept roping his sister.

Back to the crow story. In my opinion, crows are about three notches smarter than other birds but I guess I'm prejudiced. I always put Midnight in the old out-house at night. And one night one of those old brindled colored half-wild mousers that Dad kept around the place to kill mice got into the out-house through a lose board on the back and made a terrible end of Midnight.

At the time, I remember hating that old cat but usually couldn't get very close to him. One day I saw his tail at the corner of one of the grain bins. I very quietly slipped up on that tail the way a cat might stalk a mouse. I grabbed his tail and gave him a sling. Anyway, the old story about cats landing on their feet is just not true. But they may have nine lives, because it didn't seem to hurt him too much. I might also caution any kids that may try this that cats are really quick and can double back on you and do considerable damage before you release one.

I can hardly imagine being that cruel to any animal today but I truly didn't like that murdering cat!