Old Joe Crow

When my mother and father married they lived at the Geddes farm with my grandparents, my father’s parents, John and Ethel Geddes. My mom and grandma were hard-working women, always, always something to be done. When you live and work on the farm, you never get to leave the work behind. It’s always before you, never-ending. Formidable for most, but in that era it was a way of life for many people. The family farm was what supported you. Kept you fed. Kept you warm. Exhausted you. The work on the farm is never done.

One of the enjoyments my mother and grandmother had was making friends with a crow. Now that doesn’t sound too exciting probably to most people, but if you have a wild crow that comes and befriends you, well, on the farm that was special. It was to them anyway, providing an enjoyable distraction when life is just…hard.

As the story goes, my father, Charles Geddes, found Old Joe as a baby on the ground in the woods and rescued him. Placing him under a crate to protect him from the farm dogs, Joe grew to an adult being fed milk and bread. When an adult he was set free but loved people, so he didn’t fly far.

Old Joe crow would find my grandmother and mother when they were outside in the backyard hanging clothes on the clothesline to dry. He would swoop in, land on their shoulders, and chirp in their ears I suppose telling them all about his day. Or, he was telling them to go get the hotdog that they would almost always feed him. No wonder he was their friend. I’d befriend anyone who’d feed me a hotdog…

He would also ride on my grandmother’s shoulder as she walked to the mailbox. Her little granddaughter, Janice Rae, did not understand this and would scream “Get that black chicken off Grandma!” He would also bring my mother “presents” like “cotter pins” that he stole from the workshop, and another time a dead tree frog. He was such a fun “pet” to have on the farm.

I’m not sure how long Old Joe was around- my mother told me this story many years ago and some of the story is left out I’m sure. But it all ended one sad day. He’d swooped in and landed on my mother’s shoulder. She, ready with a hotdog in hand, started feeding him as he greedily pecked away at this gourmet meal. This had to be the highlight of his day. Well, he accidentally (I want to believe it was an accident) nipped her with his beak and she cuffed him a little (accidentally I want to believe, it probably hurt and it’s a normal response, and I also know my mother). Well, Old Joe got his feelings hurt and he flew off never to return, much to the dismay of both my mother and grandmother. It was such a special memory for them, I could tell they loved Old Joe Crow. Cows, pigs, chickens, none as friendly as Old Joe. Both my mother and grandmother have relocated to Heaven and maybe Old Joe was not far away in one of those great celestial trees, ready to greet them.

I’d like to believe that.

My Grandmother, Ethel Sweet Geddes with Old Joe.

My mother, Polly Witherby Geddes feeding Old Joe a hotdog.

Charles Geddes with Old Joe Crow.