The Visitor

         Out on the ledge of the tenth floor balcony, a weary raven perched, head cocked to one side, resting. He had just made a flight from the other side of town, maybe three miles or so. It had only been a week since he had been released back into the wild, having been the beneficiary of a rescue from a fallen nest. It was odd to see a raven in the city, with pigeons and swallows being a much more common sight. I watched him as he moved his head in odd angles, seemingly looking at me, as if waiting on me to toss him some tasty morsel.
         His eyes riveted to me, I tossed the remaining corner of my sandwich to him. He hopped down from the railing, and cautiously walked toward it, and picked up the bread. As he threw his head back, he managed to move the bread crust down his throat in one smooth motion, much like a chain-fed machine gun. He turned back to me, ruffled his feathers around his neck, bowed out his wings a few times for good measure, and gave a loud “caw, caw”. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that he was asking for more.
         “I don’t have any more, Mr. Raven,” I told him, as if he could understand me. “It looks like you’re going to have to find somewhere else to pan-handle”
         The raven looked at me, gave another “caw”, and hopped back over to the railing. He was now facing away from me, yet still looking back toward me, head at its previous crazy angle. Once assured I had no more for him, he gave a final flutter of his neck feathers, and stepped out onto the wind, and was gone.