A Crow’s Breakfast

Mystery Crow | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Our neighborhood is home to a large community of crows. Sometimes, on summer evenings, dozens of them gather on the roof of our house. We hear them walking around up there and see the shadows of their feet through the skylights. If a person didn’t love birds, it would be easy to go all Tippi Hedren about it.

Right now, at the height of spring, the crows don’t hang out in gangs so much. I see them in pairs or in small family groups with talkative youngsters demanding to be fed. I almost never see a crow alone.

Toward the end of March, a mother crow and her fledgling started visiting our bird bath every morning. Mom would bring large pieces of bread — I have no idea from where – and soak them in the bath. The young bird would pace back and forth on the pool railing, calling to her in the unmistakable and completely non-melodious voice of a kid-crow who wants food now. Finally, she’d put some of the softened bread in his beak and they’d fly off, returning to repeat this process two or three times in an hour.

Carl at the Birdbath | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Then the little guy started showing up without his mom. He was quiet and there wasn’t any bread. A young crow normally stays close to its mother for a year or two, so it was clear that something had gone wrong.

I take care of four rescued, domestic pigeons, but I’ve been trained not to foster dependence between me and a creature that can make its own way in the world. It was a torment, though, seeing the crow coming to the pool railing throughout the day, always by himself and without any food.

I called my friend Gina, who is a wildlife-rescue expert, and she helped me devise a crow-support strategy: I started setting out a healthy breakfast first thing every morning. Cracked walnuts (some left in the half shell so he has to work at them), a bit of hardboiled egg, diced apples, maybe some nut butter on little bits of bread. The plan is that eventually, I will taper off — mimicking the way a natural food source might diminish.

A Crow's Breakfast | Hitchhiking to Heaven

There’s Carl with a walnut. He’s shy.

Our hope is that the high-protein meal will give this young bird the start he needs to have a good day. He gets only breakfast from me;  he has to figure out the rest. (It feels like feeding a kid and sending him off to school.) Gina said he may even work out how to share his breakfast, making an offering that could help him gain entry into our local society of crows.

I named the crow Carl. If he turns out to be Carlie or Carlotta, we’ll deal.

It’s clear that Carl is working out the details of his day. He’s very cautious around me, which is fine. (I wonder if, when he sees me taking care of the pigeons, he worries I might try to grab him and put him in a big bird house.) He flies in and out from our property from morning til night, bringing in food from elsewhere or stopping by for a drink. He brings big worms and things that grow on trees. Sometimes he shows up in the evenings with a piece of bread bigger than his head, like his mother taught him before she disappeared. I’m proud of our crow.

Almond Flour Pankcakes | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Not a crow’s breakfast!

This morning, Carl’s breakfast was a few walnuts, shredded bok choy, and a slightly burnt almond flour pancake from my own breakfast. Carl’s favorite days are when I burn the pancakes, because otherwise I tend to hoard them for myself. The leftovers make a good late-day snack for humans. (I drop them into the toaster for a minute to reheat them.) I love this simple recipe for almond flour pancakes. They come out perfect almost every time. Sometimes I add lemon zest or fruit. Lemon-lingonberry was a great idea.

I also tried this recipe, which has excellent flavor — coconut milk, anyone? — but a tendency to burn. (Good news for Carl.) I suspect that’s because it includes honey. When I experimented with adding honey to the first recipe, those pancakes wanted to burn, too. I found a post called Substituting Honey for Sugar in Home Canning, Cooking, Making Jams, Jellies and Baking that mentions how honey makes baked goods brown faster, so there’s corroboration. (It’s a post worth reading if you’re interested in replacing sugar with honey in a variety of contexts.) There’s really no reason these pancakes need to include honey. I’ll leave it out — and I’ll probably still share with Carl.

I’ve started collecting recipes for these kinds of grain-free, sugar-free breakfasts, baked good, and treats on a Pinterest board, if you want to follow along.

Rescued Domestic King Pigeons

Yuzu asks, “How come the crow gets all the pancakes?”

Bergamot Honey Syrup

Bergamot Honey Syrup | Hitchhiking to Heaven

A couple weeks ago, I got hold of my very first bergamots. Is it worth noting that spell check wants me to replace “bergamots” with “flabbergasts”?  Bergamots are, in many ways, a flabbergasty citrus fruit. They are astonishingly fragrant. (You probably already know they’re responsible for the unique scent and flavor of Earl Grey tea.) They also have an eye-opening flavor, very acidic, though the five small fruits given to me were not nearly as bitter as I expected.

The short story of the bergamot is that it’s a variety of sour orange, most commonly grown in Italy. (I’ve met only one person who has a tree here in Northern California. Happily, she is a very generous neighbor.) You can get lots more bergamot story — including links to bergamot recipes and an explanation of how the bergamot name is often given to the “wrong” fruit in France — in David Lebovitz’s post, What Is a Bergamot?

I zested and juiced most of the fruit to make bergamot honey syrup. (I also air dried some peels to use later.) I imagine this syrup could be put to great use in cocktails and baked goods, but I’ve mostly been enjoying it in my homemade ginger tea. And while we’re here, I’d like to show you my tea mug . . .

Bergamot Honey Syrup | Hitchhiking to Heaven

For a long time, it bugged me, this mug. I am an optimistic person by nature, but the slogan “expect the best” put me on edge. I’m as much perfectionist as optimist and I’ve learned that always having the highest expectations, the most stringent standards, sets me up for needless stress and disappointment. Not what I want from my mug first thing in the morning. Most of the time, I prefer a slogan like “Set your intentions, do your work, and accept what comes” even though I know it’s not really mug appropriate.

I was relieved when I dropped the mug in the sink and the handle snapped off. I thought, “That’s what comes of expecting the best. Now I can get rid of this stupid thing.” But it was such a clean break that it seemed wasteful to throw it out. I asked Stewart to glue the handle back on and he very kindly did so, coming back later to tell me that it hadn’t worked well. The glue swelled so much that, though the handle holds fast, the repair is awkward, anything but seamless. Expect the best, but accept what is. It’s perfect.

Bergamot Honey Syrup

3 cups filtered water
2 cups wildflower honey
2 bergamots, zested and juiced
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Wash, zest, and juice the bergamots. Strain the bergamot juice and set it aside. Combine the water, honey, and bergamot zest in a medium, heavy-bottomed sauce pot. Simmer until thickened, 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally. (Remember that the syrup will continue to thicken as it cools.) Remove from heat, skim any foam, and strain out the zest. Stir in the fresh bergamot and lemon juices. Allow to cool, then transfer to a bottle or jar for storage in the fridge. My yield was slightly less than a quart.

Garden Journal: Raspberry Shortcake in a Half Wine Barrrel

Raspberry Shortcake Plant Variety | Hitchhiking to Heaven

When I walked into the nursery and said I’d come for a strawberry shortcake, they looked at me like I was nuts. It doesn’t really matter that I had meant to say “raspberry shortcake,” because that doesn’t make sense either — unless you know about this new plant. It’s a thornless, dwarf raspberry developed especially for container gardeners. It was developed by BrazelBerries, and my local nursery didn’t have any trouble ordering it for me when I asked them about it. (That’s my little Rangpur lime tree showing off in the background. It’s having a good year.)

Rasberry Shortcake Plant Variety | Hitchhiking to Heaven

I had decided not to have a garden this year. I told myself it’s too much work. Plus, we spend every August in Alaska and it feels like I miss half my harvest. I get back just in time to catch the stragglers and clean up the mess. But this raspberry got me going, and I’ve since started a few new containers for herbs and seeded a little bed of greens.

Now I want to get some new blueberry bushes, too. I already have two different kinds of blueberries in big containers. They’ve blossomed furiously and beautifully this year . . .

Blueberry Blossoms | Hitchhiking to Heaven

BrazelBerries has also developed a new dwarf blueberry for containers. (You’d think they were paying me to say all of this, but they’re not. They don’t even know me.) It’s called Peach Sorbet, which seems like a strange name for a blueberry, but I think it’s because of the color of its spring foliage. I can see using it on my patio, or even creating a compact hedge in the raggedy garden alongside the house. I’m coming to understand that my favorite way to landscape is with edibles. I walk around in gardens saying, “That’s gorgeous. Can you eat it?”

Here’s another edible in the making . . .

Blenheim Apricot Blossom | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Our dwarf Blenheim apricot tree is doing so well this spring. It has been worth all the effort of caring for it since a couple years ago when it was just a stick in a pot. We’ve pruned it, fertilized it, and built an enormous new box for it. Now we’ve been able to watch it go from blossom to leaf . . .

Blenheim Apricot Blossoms and Leaves | Hitchhiking to Heaven

And from leaf to its first baby apricots! (That took three years.) I just counted them yesterday and there are more than fifty. It’s a small tree, so we’ll have to see what it can bear. I’m wondering if it will drop any fruit, or if some of it will need to be culled.

Baby Blenheim Apricots | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Finally, here’s a last daphne blossom. Not edible, but so sweet.

Daphne Blossom | Hitchhiking to Heaven

Are you growing anything new in your garden this spring?

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