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A Murder of Crow
Looking out the window this morning, I saw an abundance of flies. They're a constant annoyance but this was a remarkable display of so many, so excited. I wondered why.
Wandering out, I found the yard absolutely strewn with crow feathers. Some poor bird got picked clean. The carcass is nowhere in sight -- hopefully it get et up.
No topic post would be complete without a link to some neat science. Without further ado, a recently posted Ted video considers the relationship between crow and man.
Spoilers below the fold for those who can't or don't want to watch the video. And some reflections on the one that died here last night (and my role in the crime).
The Ted talk's thesis is, in my view, a rediscovery of the concept of domesticating wild animals. The speaker observes that crows are found everywhere there are people other than the arctic, and rarely nest more than 5km from people. While some regard them as pests to be eradicated, he proposes managing them with the aim of co-evolution, exploiting the intelligence of crows to perform useful work. The speaker built a "crow vending machine" to illustrate the potential. In just four steps he taught wild crows to gather scattered coins, drop them in a slot, and get a peanut. He's not sure there's enough loose change on the streets to form a business model out of that, but it is a proof of concept.
The talk includes a video clip from a scientific experiment. A wild crow that uses sticks as tools was in a lab, challenged to remove meat from a narrow tube using a stiff wire. After a time, the crow came up with some original behavior (shown in the video): it took a moment away from fishing for meat to go off and bend the wire, forming a hook. With the hook, it retrieved the meat easily. "This is the point where the researchers freak out," quipped the speaker.
The talk includes other clips and stories of remarkable displays of intelligence by crows.
I'd like to honor the crow who died here, probably early this morning. This is especially because I'm pretty sure I met this particular crow just yesterday and played a role in its demise.
As a favor to the owners of the place, I was helping water the sod. That is my complicity. I'd step out, every N minutes, to move a sprinkler around.
In the dry weather we've been having, the sprinkler is a perpetual treat for birds. Robins come to bathe -- that's kind of cool. A fun treat to watch is the hummingbirds who hover, dancing with the back and forth motion of the sprinkler, using it as half-shower / half-water-fountain.
Yesterday was unusual for the appearance of this crow, bathing and drinking. Don't see that much.
This particular crow was not in the good graces of the local murder. As he bathed and drank, from the nest and tree above came many screams. There was shouting back and forth. But, dangit, fresh water isn't abundant on the city streets these days and he shouted right back and stood his ground.
He stood his ground this much: when I went out to move the sprinkler, sure, he fluttered away a few feet -- but then stood there and started shouting at me. I spritzed him with the sprinkler as I moved it as a friendly gesture. He seemed to appreciate that. After I set it down and as I walked away he advanced on me a bit and shouted some more -- but it seemed very pro forma, actually. We'd understood one another. He got back to bathing and drinking and ignoring the angry crows in the tree.
A fresh watering attracts more than just birds. The insects go nuts. It used to bring up worms (though I haven't seen more than 2 or 3 this year). And that brings the raccoons.
These are big, aggressive, urban raccoons. These are the guys who, if I encounter them at night, are 50/50 likely to scoot away or, alternatively, perch up on their hind legs, rising well above my waste, and give me an "out o' my way, buddy" look.
And that's all I know. I helped try (somewhat futilely) to soak the sod in anticipation of water rationing and triple-digit temps. That brought the crow. It probably brought the raccoons. And this morning, the yard is littered with the signs of a murder of crow -- and a lot of flies.
Wherever you are is at least as interesting and probably more so. Spend some time, quietly, every day, looking at the wild life. Use all of your senses. Learn where you are. Start to figure out how you can make sense of living there.
-t