No business like crow business

No apologies for the very poor pun in the title. It was business involving crows. And there’s really nothing like it.

Last year, we heard scratching in our (bricked up) chimney. About a week later, the scratching stopped. Whatever had fallen in had either died or escaped, but we didn’t know what it was at the time. A bird? A mouse? A dog? OK, probably not a dog.

About three weeks after the scratching stopped, we noticed a few bluebottles around the house. Of course at the time, we didn’t link the two events, and just assumed they’d come about due to the hot weather or something we’d left to rot in the bin, or something else.

But they got worse. Over a few days, we’d start finding lots of bluebottles. Tens of them in several rooms. We were clearing the rooms in the morning, and then finding more when we got home. It wasn’t pleasant. The man from Rentokill told us something had died somewhere, and then we realised it was the scratching in the chimney. Anyway, he killed the flies and all was well.

Until a couple of weeks ago. When we heard scratching again.

We quickly organised a builder to come and sort it out, and this week (a few days after the scratching had stopped again) he came out. First he closed off the top of the chimney with mesh, to prevent repeat occurrences, then he started to open up the fireplace to clear it out.

And oh, what a clearing out it needed. Something I ended up doing the majority of, once the dead crow was spotted.

Of course, the builder was supposed to be clearing it, but he didn’t for two reasons:

1. He poked at the corpse and said he didn’t like it. He called himself a wuss.
2. Something moved.

Yes, somewhere in the chimney, something was moving.

As the hole got bigger, it became apparent that there wasn’t just a couple of dead birds in there. I mean, I was expecting a pair of corpses – the remains from last year and those from last week. But there were more than two. And the moving thing.

I rang the RSPCA, who, would you believe, are closed until 11am. Thankfully, that was just our regional office and there was a general calls line so I called them instead. They weren’t very helpful, basically saying that if I could get the thing out unharmed then great, and if it was injured, to take it to a vet. I’m sure a vet would love to mend the tail of some vermin. Tch. Of course, there may have been an actual nest in there though. Anyway, we (I) got back to the clearing. I didn’t like it much, but I just kept telling myself it was just like chicken in Asda. Only black and with the beak still attached.

After five corpses had been removed, we found a blockage. For some reason, a huge bail of plastic wrap was in the chimney. That came out, and revealed more deadness – four more crows, in various stages of petrification. Actually, four and a half more crows. Mmm.

And still with the scratching.

Then, it jumped out. A perfectly alive and in one piece crow. A huge crow. In my lounge. Hammering its head against the window until I managed to open it and let it escape. I’m pretty sure the builder squealed.

It was all easy after that. The builder got on with clearing the feathers and twigs and whatnot, sealed it all back up, and went on his way. But what excitement for a day!

I do wonder if the live crow was actually a new resident to the chimney since the weekend, and whether he’d been surviving on the flesh of the departed. It’d explain Harry Half-a-Crow if nothing else.

He’s probably a bit relieved he got out too. I imagine there’d been a sadistic crow on our roof convincing other crows to go in our chimney (and to their death) by telling them it was full of tasty worms or something. And then, when they’re in there, he giggles to himself and cuts another notch in a roof tile. They get to the bottom of the chimney, find all their dead friends, and think “oh bother”. But this one escaped to tell everyone! There’ll probably be an angry mob of crows round our way now, with pitchforks and burning torches.