Whatever is on the menu at Abby’s Place in Essex, Edgar is consistent: He has grape jelly for breakfast, grape jelly for lunch, and grape jelly for dinner.

And he never pays a cent for it—but then Edgar is not your average restaurant patron. Edgar is a crow, Edgar Allan Crow to be precise. His name is a tribute to the 19th century American author Edgar Allan Poe, whose poem, “The Raven,” gave crows their own special place in literature with the signature line, “Quoth the Raven, nevermore.”

But then, Edgar Allan Crow has had at least one poem written especially for him by Erin Owens, one of the servers at Abby’s. It begins, “Here comes Edgar Allan Crow/He always knows just where to go/He loves the deck at Abby’s Place/ The jellies there are always grape.”

Edgar pierces the jelly packets with his beak, and, after finishing them, drops the empties.

“I know he comes over to Essex Island, because there are used packages all over the place,” said Owens, who lives in a boat moored at the island.

According to Abby Miner, the owner and chef at Abby’s Place, Edgar also stores jelly packets in hanging plants and other nooks around the restaurant so he never runs out. To cut down on the litter, the restaurant’s servers now put grape jelly out in a bowl in the morning for Edgar or leave some toast with the jelly in a corner of the deck for him.

Regular restaurant patrons know it isn’t a good idea to leave food of any kind unwatched when Edgar is about. Recently Owens observed him swiping a piece of bacon when the intended eater was not looking. He is also partial to sweet potato fries and he is an expert at hanging around tables for crumbs, particularly of blueberry and corn muffins.

When Edgar, whose nest is behind an office building near the restaurant, will make an appearance at the restaurant is something only he knows. He doesn’t like the heat; he seems to favor breakfast time. But even if he is not present, a picture of Edgar greets diners as they enter the restaurant. It’s a classic, a photograph of Edgar with a jelly package hanging from his mouth.

Bob Beman and his wife Laura of Madison keep an eye on Edgar when they go to the restaurant.

“We like to watch him working the tables for jelly packs,” Beman said. “Because of the intelligence level of crows, he knows how to work an area and he’s not shy.”

On a recent morning, Katherine Churchill of Bristol and her daughter Gail Fancher of Canton, breakfasting at Abby’s Place, admitted they came for two things: the view and a glimpse of Edgar.

“We’ve come here for two years to see him,” Churchill said.

Miner said people come in all the time asking for Edgar, and sometimes they are disappointed. He leaves around the end of November and reappears in the spring. Last year, Edgar became one half of a twosome, with a female crow the staff at Abby’s has named Edwina. And then the expected: By the end of the season last year, there were a number of little crows flying around.

Edgar has been a fixture at the restaurant all six years Miner has owned it, and she says the previous owner, when Abby’s Place was known as The Crow’s Nest, said he was there then, too.

Some members of the staff have developed special relationships with him. Researchers at the University of Washington established what ornithologists had long suspected: crows can recognize individual faces and Edgar looks not only for Owens, but also for server Lisette Heller.

“Edgar likes us all, but he loves Lisette,” Miner said.

Heller usually calls him in the morning to say she has put out the jelly dish. Edgar jumps up on the railing of the decks, according to Heller, and says...Well, what do you think Edgar says? “Caw, caw.”

Miner has a pretty special relationship with Edgar too. She explained she always knows him due to the furry feathers on his legs and his stance.

“He’s at a tilt; he leans a little bit,” she explained.

Not too long ago, Miner, who has to spend most of her time cooking rather than serving out on the deck, made some time for a special visit with Edgar. The bird sat near her for 10 minutes while she chatted.

“I just talked to him in a quiet tone, asked how he was, how Edwina was,” she said.

Miner has given some thought to the inevitable—when Edgar is no longer a part of the picture. Fortunately, crows are long-lived birds, some surviving as much as 14 years. But Miner knows, nonetheless, the sad day will come.

“I thought about it last winter,” she said. I just hope he comes back every year. He’s our buddy, our mascot.”