— Why are you shouting at me?! — the man protested. — I’m flying around and feeding your wife, and yet you’re raising your voice at me?! What on earth is this all about?! They yelled at each other for half an hour until the bird went hoarse and the man grew tired…

Why are you shouting at me?! the man exclaimed, utterly bewildered. Im tending to your wife, feeding and mending her, and youre raising your voice at me? Really now! What on earth is going on?! The two of them shouted at each other for half an hour, until the bird was hoarse and the man was simply exhausted

The man was heading home, the stale air of the biscuit factory still clinging to his coat after his early morning shift. The weekend was right ahead, and even that small fact brought him a quiet thrill. But there was something else, too: on Saturday night, he had a long-anticipated date with a woman hed met online.

For a whole month, they messaged daily: chatting about work, swapping thoughts about the telly, sharing pet peeves and pointless dreams. Just like these things usually go. Finally, theyd set a date. All he had left was to call up a snug little pub, book a table, and decide on the right shirt.

He was deep in pleasant musings as he drew near his house one of those identical red-brick blocks, with his small fourth-floor flat overlooking the car park. Fifty steps to the door. Sometimes it feels as if one more step would tip the world into something utterly new, but

Ah, that but.

Right by the entrance, from a tree hed never really noticed, a huge black crow came crashing to the ground, straight at his feet. The bird flapped about, cawing with a wild, sharp cry, while on the branches above, a whole turmoil of crows swooped and shrieked, filling the air with a racket like some mad chorus.

Brilliant, muttered the man, just what I needed.

The crow tried to stand, but toppled over. Her right leg hung at a sickly angle.

What am I supposed to do with you? he asked, half aloud.

He couldnt just leave her there. Slipping off his jacket, he used it to gently cover the bird, then lifted her in his arms and strode towards the entrance, the packs anxious screams swirling behind him.

Once home, he sat her on his kitchen worktop and tried to see to her leg. In a second, she snapped at his thumb with her beak.

Oh, for heavens sake! he said, gritting his teeth as he swaddled her beak in an old tea towel.

Calling round the local vets got him nowhere birds werent their business. Mates had no advice either. But then a thought: hed been a dab hand in the repair workshop for years, why not have a go himself?

He made her a bed in a shallow cardboard box with a nest of towels on the windowsill. Right then, she got her name Clara.

For the next couple of hours, he whittled together a makeshift splint: knife, two tidy sticks, a sliver of cardboard, a bit of insulating tape, a mechanics confidence. When he was done, he unwrapped her beak.

Clara lunged at him, peck-first.

Steady on, the man muttered. Trying to help, arent I? But this wont do. Food and water next.

A bit of searching online pointed the way: down to the tackle shop for maggots and worms, then to the chemist for tweezers and a syringe. Supplied, he began Claras feeding.

It took a lot of wrestling: gently prising open her beak, pushing in the squirmy bits, squeezing water into her mouth. She cawed in outrage and nipped every chance she got; he grumbled, but carried on.

At last, they were both shattered. Having eaten, drunk, and fought through the pain, Clara finally quietened and slept. So did he.

Morning: much the same. Protests and persistence, cawing and coaxing. But then outside, on the windowsill, sat an enormous black crow, watching in utter silence.

Only half-conscious of himself, the man opened the window.

You must be Claras husband. Come on in. See for yourself Im just trying to help her.

The big crow cocked his head, listening with a sly sideways eye, and then hopped through. He eyed Clara and then turned his sharp beak to the man, letting out a fierce, brazen caw.

What are you shouting for now?! the man demanded. Arent I mending and feeding your wife for you? Enough of this nonsense!

So it went, half an hour, bird and man bickering back and forth, each getting more hoarse and weary.

At last, wordless, the man slid two small boxes towards the crow maggots and worms neatly arranged. No explanations needed.

The crow eyed the contents with an appraising look, then tucked in smartly.

Just as I thought, the man chuckled, treating yourself like its yours by right. I suppose I practically bought them just for you.

Once full, the crow sidled up to Clara and began smoothing her feathers, gently, almost with affection.

Well I never, the man murmured, strangely touched. A proper family moment, that. Dont you worry, mate, Ill get your Clara back on her feet. Just talk her into eating nicely, will you?

That night the crow flew off, but by morning he was back, tapping at the glass, waiting to be let in, checking on Clara, sharing their breakfast in measured calm.

Good morning, the man grinned, looks as though were starting to speak the same language

While the man busied himself feeding Clara, urging her not to snap, her mate stood by, quietly observing.

And then a surge of panic struck him like cold water poured over his head.

Good Lord he groaned, clutching his forehead. Shes waiting! I never called, never booked a table

He fumbled for his mobile and dialed.

Sorry, Im so sorry he began, explaining in stumbling sentences about birds, injuries, and apologies for no reservation.

So you think some crow matters more than meeting me? the woman cut in, hurt brimming in her voice.

Its not like that. Its just it matters, yes, but things just turned out this way

Well, live with your crow then! she snapped, hanging up.

Thats that, the man sighed to the crow, End of the date, before it even started.

Right then, the big bird hopped onto the table, spread its wings, puffed out its chest, strutting from side to side as though it owned the place.

The man couldnt help but laugh:

Not sure you got a word I said, but youre rooting for me, arent you? Chin up, eh? Not the time for sulking.

Just then, the bell rang. On the doorstep stood his neighbour from upstairs a sunny woman with a smile quick as summer, always cheerful in the lift.

Sorry to bother, she began, nerves making her voice shy But theres been this whole commotion of crows round your windows these days Is everything alright? Are you okay?

Not really the sort of thing you can explain straight away, he stammered. Come in and have a look.

She stepped in, stopped short, taken aback by the scene before her.

Goodness me Youre nursing a crow?

Clara, he corrected.

Then this ones Carl, she laughed, bubbling over.

Her laugh rang like silver spoons on glass, and at that moment the man realised he hadnt heard anything so delightful in ages. Looking at her, he thought well, never mind that lost date.

Carl again strutted across the table, spread his grand wings, and the neighbours laughter danced about the room.

From then on, everything was somehow lighter. Carl clearly liked her: whenever she visited, he began grooming and edged closer, making himself as handsome as possible. She blushed, giggled, and fussed over both birds. Clara settled down, stopped snapping, and started eating on her own. She healed quickly. The man handed the neighbour a spare key, and shed pop by to check on Clara when he was at work.

He found himself more taken with her each day. He was just working up the courage to ask her out, when something else happened.

Late one evening, after the late shift, he was strolling home a special day, too: hed dashed out during lunch and bought the neighbour a small silver necklace, with a heart on it like a berry.

He walked through the lamp-lit street, trying on smiles for when hed give it to her. But under the orange gleam of the streetlight, two figures loomed from the gloom.

Empty your wallet, phone, and watch! one hissed, brandishing a knife.
And hand over your coat, snarled the second.

He didn’t even have time to be scared.

From the sky, a dark storm crashed down: screams terror, pain, chaos. A cacophony of beaks rained blows like hail. The crow pack swamped the attackers in a wild, unnatural ballet.

He legged it home, heart hammering. Next morning

The neighbour stood on his doorstep, pale and trembling.

Oh, thank goodness! she cried, falling into his arms. Youre alright! I thought with all those crows

What happened? he asked, stroking her hair.

In the night, a whole flock set on two men nearly pecked them to death. Theyre in hospital, in a terrible way.

He grinned and remembered his present.

I got you something.

Oh, why? How sweet its not necessary she babbled, bashful.

But when he showed her the silver necklace, she smiled, kissed his cheek, and took it shyly in her hand.

Its lovely. Thank you, she said, reaching for it, but

Ah, that but!

Carl swept through the room in a black blur, snatched the bright thing from his hand and laid it, glimmering, by Claras feet.

The man and woman burst out laughing.

Ill buy you another one, he promised.

Carl stretched his wings, chest proud, and let out a great Cawww! Clara picked up the chain daintily and tucked it into her box.

And the man and woman kissed on the step.

And what, truly, could matter more?

After all, family is familySide by side they lingered on the chilly threshold, laughter warming the air between them and feathers scattered like black confetti atop the doormat. Above, the assembled crows perched in rows along the rooftop and branches, a silent, watching jurygrudgingly approving, perhaps, or maybe standing guard.

The woman slipped her hand into his. Carl and Clara pressed close, eyes flickering like bits of onyx in the morning light, their voices hushed now to gentle coos. There was no need for more words, not from any of them; some connections, once woven, required only the small messages of nearness and belonging.

As the day stretched its golden arms over the city, the crows unfurled their wings and lifted in a single, thunderous spiralsoaring high, wheeling over the rooftops and away, until even Carl and Clara finally followed, black flares against the soft blue.

He and the woman remained at the door, hearts full, watching the sky empty itself of birds. The tiny heart-shaped chain glimmered for an instant in Claras beak before disappearing into the clouds. He squeezed her hand.

You know, she whispered, I think theyll always come back.

Maybe, he said, grinning, but I hope you do too.

Her laughter answered, bright and true. And as they closed the door behind them, it seemed to the man that the whole flatno, the whole worldwas suddenly open, airy, and wide as wings.