The crow seemed to float toward the smiling old man, its wings fully extended as it gently landed on the bench where he sat. As usual, peanuts and peanut shells were scattered liberally, and the bird dug in, spending half its time eating and the other half staring at his benefactor before abruptly flying away.
“Good to see you again, Stanley,” said Henry, who left the Greenvale Village assisted living facility each morning at 9 a.m. sharp to meet his feathered friends at the nearby park. “Thanks for not hogging it all, buddy … you’ve got friends coming.”
He did, indeed.
The birds had been around Henry for so long – and knew his habits so well – that they always showed up when it was feeding time. And they knew very well who was doing the feeding.
The best Henry could remember, he had been at the facility for less than a week when he decided a daily walk to the park would be his morning exercise. There was always a staff member giving him a loose follow – usually an attendant named Frank – but he was in good physical shape for a 91-year-old man, and able to get away far enough to have a bit of time to himself.
It was nothing personal … Frank and the rest of the staff had always treated him with kindness and dignity. But sometimes Henry wanted to feel as free as a bird, and sharing his time with Stanley was a way to do that.
Henry figured it was because that first day in the park – his stomach already growling after the 5 a.m. oatmeal had lost its stick – he sat down, leaned back, cracked open a shell and gobbled down the two peanuts.
Once he tossed the shell to the ground the crow swooped down – gave Henry a quick glance – clamped the shell in its bill, and headed toward the trees.
When another crow showed up the next day, Henry said, “Welcome back, Stanley!” and emptied a handful of peanuts on the bench.
He had no idea if it was the same bird – and he couldn’t tell you why he named him Stanley – but those were just small details.
He had found a friend, and a friend needs a name. Besides, he just seemed like a Stanley.
So, it became a routine, day in and day out. Stanley was always the first on the scene, followed shortly by other crows who – wouldn’t you know it? – looked just like Stanley.
After Stanley and the others had picked over all the shells and nutmeat they wanted, they headed for the skies.
And that was Henry’s cue to head back to his room.
On this particular Friday, Henry was moving a bit faster than usual as Frank intercepted him at the walkway leading to the main entrance of Greenvale Village.
“What’s up, Henry?” Frank asked. “You got a date or something?”
Henry smiled.
“I’m gonna go spend some quality time with my friends,” he said in an excited, raspy voice. “When you reach my age, you don’t have a lot to look forward to, but I’m looking forward to this.”
Frank patted him on the back and watched as Henry scooted toward the door and headed inside.
Frank didn’t know the details, but he assumed some old acquaintances had decided to come around for a visit. Henry’s wife had died several years earlier, and the couple had no children. In fact, Frank couldn’t recall at time when he’d ever seen Henry entertain guests – family or otherwise.
Frank’s Saturday shift began at 8:45 a.m., and he looked forward to checking in, escorting Henry to his favorite bench, and getting all the details about his night on the town. When he arrived, however, he was met with somber looks.
“I’ve got some sad news, Frank,” said Martha, who always manned the front desk on weekends. “Henry passed away … died in his sleep. Rex was on duty overnight and when he checked in about 4 a.m., Henry was gone.
“He was a sweet old man … I’m gonna miss him.”
Having been on staff for close to a decade, Frank was used to patients transitioning while being cared for in Greenvale Village. And even though the news hit him hard, he knew that Henry looked happy the last time he saw him. Hopefully he had one last, pleasant get-together before closing his eyes for good.
He never verbalized it for fear of sounding morbid, but Frank thought it was his duty and the duty of everyone who worked there to make sure residents lived comfortably and died peacefully.
For the next several weeks, out of habit, Frank would check the time and expect to see Henry headed for the door with a bag of peanuts in tow.
Eventually, a new resident discovered the joys of birdwatching and bird-feeding, and it always gave Frank a warm feeling when he saw the man tossing shelled nuts on the ground, just as Henry used to do.
Frank had shared pleasantries with him ever since he arrived, but the attendant figured since his bird feeding was apparently going to be a daily practice, he’d start a conversation.
“Those crows are always glad to see you, aren’t they Stanley?” Frank said.
“Well, I think they’re just following Henry, and Henry seems to like me.”
Frank chuckled.
“That’s funny. There used to be a fellow here named Henry who’d go out and feed the birds every day.”
Stanley reached up and gently patted Frank on the cheek.
“Oh, I know, son,” he said. “You should join me on the bench and visit with him sometime. He’d love to see you again.”
