She sensed him coming, and promptly sat on the eggs, pushing the odd one out well between her feet, away from his eyes. Hopefully, when the chick came out, it would all be fine.
"My turn on them. Take a break," Mr. Crow said kindly. Mrs. Crow felt nervous but didn't want to make her discomfort obvious. "A minute more," she said and tried to unobtrusively bury this one under the others as Mr. Crow kept a watch.
She perched up on the edge of the nest and saw her clawwork. She hoped he was as distracted as always and just as turned towards the nest, gave him a string of instructions. He plonked himself on the eggs irritably. "I know! I am not a baby!" he grumbled.
She flew away, wondering when he would notice and what she could say.
When she came back, he seemed upset. She pretended everything was okay and waited for him to say something.
As she served the worms, he said, "Errr....honey... You remember I told you I had an odd cousin?" She looked up. "I...I think we have a similar one in our lot."
Her wing flew to her beak. "Oh my lord!" she said. He nodded gravely. What sin had they committed. She leaned against him and he said gently, "Don't get too upset, maybe this one will not be so bad."
They waited and slowly the day came when all would be revealed. With pride she saw her eldest one come out, then another, then another. The last one, the strange one, remained. She wished Mr. Crow would come.
When he landed, her joy was tinged with sorrow. They watched together as the tiny black fledgeling broke out and opened its pink mouth, squeaking in a strange language. Mrs. looked at Mr. and saw he was shattered. He nodded slightly: yes, this was just like his cousin.
Mrs. Crow cried, Mr. Crow held her. "God has given him to us. We will do as best as we can."
She nodded.
When feeding time came, she gave him the first mouthful, wondering if he would ever be able to survive in this world. As he grew, she saw how different he was, singing a strange song, in a strange language. Who will understand him when she was dead? She was forlorn. His black body made him close to their Raven cousins, but the contours were all wrong - a small head, a long tail and the strange call. She tried not to think about it.
She saw him grow, and her fears grew. When he flew out of the nest, her heart went out with him.
She would have probably been less upset had she known that he was a normal cuckoo child, abandoned by a dejected cuckoo mother who had nowhere to go, her scoundrel lover having abandoned her; that the cuckoo mother had found the ready-made nest and dropped her egg in, hoping whoever owned the nest would be kind enough to bring up her child.
She would have been more upset at being taken for granted, at being loaded with an unwanted burden of an extra mouth.
But her greatest upset would have been that she had wasted precious minutes worrying about a perfectly normal child, different maybe from hers, but normal still. She would have preferred to give him a more normal childhood had she but known.
Also read: A Framework for Children
Excellent Short Story!
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