The Crow's Nest 3-13

3-13

            The two week long clean out went well.  The lawyer never bothered us.  Although the fire chief was there every day he never did any work so as WE were working he had to stand around at a safe distance.  He did spend ever more time in areas we were NOT working, especially the barn and shed and… especially over by the old tool bench in that shed.  Loaded with old… but not valuable… “old tools”, the boy in him was fascinated and drawn hither.  I placed one of the team; a younger move and haul boy, at work in the shed with instructions to “keep an eye on him”.  By the end of the first week he ceased his poking around.  The whole of the second week we spent clearing the shed and barn area so he was well guarded.  Otherwise the only aggressive intrusion was two visits from the real estate people; the first a group of three and then a single woman who endeavored to be bossy about the progress.  That effort, evidently planned before her arrival was negated by the whole house being eighty-nine and one half percent… empty.  Making muttering about the “condition of the walls” when she returned from her “GO LOOK IT’S EMPTY” self guided walking tour of the whole house …which I don’t think she actually covered because she wasn’t gone that long… she suggested we were done and could leave but I said “No, no, no we will be working out here (shed and barn) for a week”.  Referring her to Mr. Lawyer for the time allotment details that took care of that.  I also sensed she’d been tipped off about the mice and bats for she never, ever left the center trail through the shed to the kitchen door, never went in the barn and preferred to go into the house by using the front door with it’s old key.  She had to leave the key for us to use too and… did not like that.

            Our process of clean out was simple and aggressive.  It followed our usual practice.  That is designed to get the job done and reduce outside interference.  We cleaned out the kitchen, dining room and living room first.  That was easy and created a “cleaned” showoff area that any visitor could be taken to and then …taken no where else.  WE; the whole team using all man power and six trucks, then cleaned out the whole upstairs of the ell; the five plus rooms packed with “rubbish”.  This area was “the worse in the estate” meaning that in addition to abundance, the removal of this abundance was difficult because of its location.  All of it had to be maneuvered out of the rooms, down the tiny hall, down the tiny back stairs, into the living room, through the dining room and kitchen, out through the shed and finally into the back of a poised truck.  As a truck filled it drove off to the warehouse on the coast, the next truck backed into place right away and… this repeated over and over for several days for the “down and back” drive to the coastal warehouse took three hours round trip.  Often times we will actually rent warehouse space locally to cut down the turn around time but here, due to the large size of the house, we could divert stalled labor to another region, in this case the front part of the house, when we were delayed.  All and all the clean out progressed precisely including having the fire chief express a “REALLY GETTING IT DONE” that I am sure he also reported to “Shelly”.

            At the end of the day… at the end of the first week; a Monday late afternoon, all of the house was cleared, including the cellar… but not… the attic.  That region had been held for last for extraction for it included descending the attic stairs, walking down the landing, then descending the front stairs and then out the FRONT door… into a truck.  Loading a truck from a front door of ANY old estate on the MAIN street… attracts attention from EVERYONE “passing by”.  It is as if we are putting on a show that says “come hither and bug us”.  Knowing this we prepare to do this AS FAST AS POSSIBLE …. AT “DAWN” (first thing on a preferably slightly rainy morning).  Planned for and done with a lot of men and trucks poised at the front door… it all goes smoothly.

            That late afternoon, with all the day’s trucks, loading, men and… my partner already gone, I did the routine end of day walk through to check off “progress” and to “set up” …in my mind… “the next day”.  Up, up, up I went to the attic.  Way up with the little attic window and the rubbish moraines I …reviewed.  Then I turned to the Crow’s Nest door.  I looked at the sign on the door and… took it off.  I tore the old paper from the nail, opened the door and stepped inside the room carrying the sign.  The room was exactly as we had left it during the inspection.  I looked around to mentally quickly configure an extraction attack plan.

            There wasn’t that much, including the books,  “Maybe twenty boxes” I figured.  Then “the furniture”.  Small, bone dry so very light “no problem”.  “The rug too”.  “The bed’s probably the worse; has to be taken apart and… the mattress goes too “yuck”.  Then I again noted the blank space where a bedside stand had been.  A lamp that had been on the stand was on the floor to the left pushed back to the bed.  There was some clutter there too on top of a small paper box.  “Must have been on (and in the drawer of) the stand” I noted.  All that would go.  I reached down and picked the paper box.  It was a 1930’s candy box with a color paper wrapper showing a wicker cart with an umbrella all bedecked in pink, light blue and light yellow ribbons.  It was slightly heavy and a contents slide to one side as I lifted it.  I opened the little box.

            Inside was a clutter of small shiny objects.  A few pennies, buttons, bottle caps mixed with a cheap sliver plated ladies watch, a silver thimble, a silver bead necklace, a silver cigar trimmer, a silver watch chain, a glass stopper, a slip of painted glass, several finger rings, washers and a round brass medal.  There was also a small silver case for a box of matches.  There was no match box in the case but the case bore the marks of being burned on one end.  I knew exactly what I was looking at.

            It was Simon’s plunder.  It was as the mother had described it to me decades ago.  Exactly.  It was Simon’s missing plunder.  It had been taken from Simon’ fence post plunder trove by Margaret.  Long, long ago when she was a little girl.  She probably took it innocently from lust not knowing how much her mother care for it.  Then she slowly found out as the mother would have mentioned the disappearance and the Simon story over the years.  Knowing SHE had the plunder hidden in her room, SHE kept it and said nothing.  Except to call her room… The Crow’s Nest.

            I put the lid back on the little box and took it and the door sign down the attic stairs then along the landing, down the front stairs and out the front door.  Simon’s plunder was… mine.

            Until I stepped out the front door.  There before me on the lawn, half way to the street and the big maple tree… was a crow.  The crow looked at me, turned and hopped a step away.  The crow stopped and looked back at me over its left shoulder.  I stopped.  I looked at the crow.  I paused.  “Simon?” I said.  The crow kept watching me over its left shoulder with one eye.  I held out the box.  “Simon” I said again and took the lid off of the box.  I tilted the box so the crow could see the contents.  The crow didn’t move, kept watching me with the eye, then turned toward me, cocked its head to the right and continued to watch me with its left eye.  I reached into the box, picked up the silver bead necklace and tossed it onto the grass halfway between the crow and I.  The crow didn’t move except to adjust its left eye to focus on the necklace.  “Simon” I said again and lightly tossed the whole contents of the box to where the necklace was.  The crow didn’t move; just stood looking at the plunder.  I walked over to my truck; down the driveway and away from the crow and the front door.  I kept my back to the crow, opened the passenger door of the truck, put the candy box and Crow’s Nest sign on the seat and… looked back a the crow.

            It was standing in the plunder with what looked like the lady’s watch hanging from it’s beak.  I turned to face the crow and the front door.  The crow flew off with the watch.  I went back to the front door eyeing the plunder on the lawn as I did this, went inside, locked the front door, went back through the house, out through the shed and closed the shed door.  As I locked this door I looked up the driveway to the front door and lawn.  The crow was back; standing where the plunder was.  It pecked downward, picked up a small item and …flew away.   I walked over to my truck, got in and… drove away.  The next morning I went to look at the plunder on the lawn.  It was gone.