Here Charitable Individualism is the key!… nothing less.

He wanted the CROW to come up to him and perch itself on his outstretched palm. He wanted the crow to trust him. The crow is the least trusting and most alert- in the sense that any activity in its vicinity is perceived as an attempt to hurt its interest and would quickly exit.
God said, besides the nature, the crow has never been loved by anyone other than its own breed. The only way for the crow to shed its genes and memories of its experience is to overwhelm those with love. Zorba, waited with love in his heart and duly reflected in his eyes. But the CROW did not get inspired. After hours of waiting, finally grew hungry and got himself some burger from the nearby mac’s. While chomping on it, he threw a few crumbs of the patty to the crow. The crow shed a bit of its inhibition and with its usual circumspection, that the crumbs were not a human ploy to trap, he pecked a crumb and in one swift and elegant perch landed a lil away.
Zorba, felt a connection. An intended love taking the shape of love. A sort of dynamic love. Now he did not want the crow to shed its skepticism or alertness, it needed it for its survival, after all not everyone is gonna be overcome with such feelings of love for a crow- all the time. His aberration, however well intended and good, cannot be expected to alter the perceptions of years of experience,  and expectation born of it.
Zorba, touched upon a pebble of wisdom and was squeezing it to find a corner. No corner, but a hope that something solid except a sphere had to have corners, kept him squeezing it harder. Something to keep him going. A pebble and a strange love for a scavenging crow!

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