Do you want to be friends with a crow?
the genus Corvus welcomes you
“Do you want to be friends with a crow?”
This was the question I posed, via ~50 black and white posters, to the people of my city.
And reader, the answer was a resounding yes. At the time of writing, I’ve received over 350 responses, most of them very serious about wanting to be friends with a crow and almost none of them containing jokes about Sheryl Crow or Russell Crowe or Edgar Allen Poe. Almost none.
After respondents are deemed to be worthy of crow friendship (via questions like “Have you ever physically harmed a member of the genus Corvus?” and “Have you ever emotionally harmed a member of the genus Corvus?”) I send them a comprehensive “Crow Friendship Guide” so they can embark on their journey and join our burgeoning crow-munity.
This has been a very rewarding experience for me, and I would be remiss if I did not give an enormous shoutout to danielle (𝓇𝒶𝓌 & 𝒻𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁) whose scheme-centric Substack is one of the best blogs on this site and whose poster antics are the entire reason I was inspired to do this in the first place.
People sent me all sorts of name ideas for crows, some very cute, some very funny.
Many also deferred the matter of the crow’s name to the crow itself, which was actually the correct answer here. This is exactly what I was going for with the way I worded the question (“what would you call it” versus “what would its name be”) and these people nailed it.
There were so many of these
It was also just so exciting to see how many of my neighbors already possess an immense amount of general crow knowledge and enthusiasm. A few people responded with things like “I once rescued a crow with a broken wing and nursed it back to health” or “I have a falconry license,” and it was awesome to see how overqualified they were to simply feed a crow peanuts which was essentially the bulk of what I was pitching to them with this poster.
I did not realize I was surrounded by such an engaged bird-loving community, but the gift of the poster revealed this truth to me, and I am grateful for that.
Anyway, I’m obsessed with crows and I’ve had so much fun learning about them and their mysterious ways. This post functions both as (1) a dumping ground for all the cool stuff I’ve learned about crows this year, and (2) something I can send to my friends when they ask “so what’s up with this crow thing you’ve been on?” and I don’t have several hours to explain the whole thing to them. Welcome one and all. Please enjoy your stay.
Crows just wanna have fun
Crows are just like me in that they love to have fun. Here is a crow skiing down a roof:
Delightfully, there is no obvious survival-related reason that the crow is doing this. According to bird experts cited by Ars Technica, it is very simply just for fun.
Researchers call these shenanigans “unrewarded object exploration.” The crow doesn’t get a “reward” because nothing about this activity aids its survival. Its only reward is the fun of sliding down a roof.
However, Ars Technica continues, “this type of seemingly goofy activity might actually lead to better tool use later on.”
The bird is learning about slipperiness, after all, and we even see it figuring out that it can’t slide on the roof unless there’s enough snow underneath the lid.
I dunno team, what do we think? Can you identify the incidental evolutionary benefits of any of the following crow activities?
This video is insane
This seems to be a common crow behavior. Here is another example, this time with dramatic music
Rolling around in the snow having fun, being silly
geesecrows
Crows are smart
Whoever came up with the phrase “bird brains” was an idiot because these birds are extremely smart cookies.
Carrion crows can discriminate between numbers from 1-30, which makes them literally three times smarter than my human niece right now (apologies in advance for whenever you learn to read, kiddo).
Here’s a crow solving a puzzle. Here’s a crow using complex thinking to avoid threats while obtaining food (full article with explanation here).
Guess what? Crows understand analogies. I know a lot of humans who honestly have such a weak grasp of analogies so this is big.
According to Scientific American, “crows exhibit strong behavioral signs of analogical reasoning—the ability to solve puzzles like ‘bird is to air as fish is to what?’”
The science people continue: “Analogical reasoning is considered to be the pinnacle of cognition and it only develops in humans between the ages of three and four.”
Wait, so how did they even figure this out? It’s not like they just repeated “Life is like a box of chocolates” at the crow until it began wisely nodding.
Here’s an image from the experiment, and I’ll explain below how it works.
So, the middle card is the reference point to guide the crow. The crow sees two matching shapes (two plus signs) on the middle card.
The card on the crow’s right has two different shapes (circle and triangle), while the card on the crow’s left has two matching shapes (two circles).
Even though the matching shapes on the middle and left cards are different from each other (circles rather than plus signs), the crow identifies the identical condition of “two matching shapes” between the two cards and correctly chooses the card on its left.
It correctly repeats this action numerous times during the experiment. Here’s the actual video of the crow performing the experiment (and the full study here).
Pause the video before the crow makes each of its selections and see if you can also choose correctly. I am here to humbly admit that the crow absolutely destroyed me in this competition. I am officially dumber than a crow.
Okay, I love this next example. Some city-dwelling crows have been observed dropping tough-to-crack nuts onto crosswalks across busy streets so that passing cars can crush them open.
And then once the walk signal turns green, the crows swoop down to eat the nuts while traffic is temporarily paused.
Here’s a video of this happening. These birds have some serious street smarts (sorry)
One of the coolest things about crows is that they can remember individual human faces and identify whether that person is a friend or foe.
You may have heard about this in the context of the fact, “crows hold grudges,” which I’m happy to tell you is 100% true and not an urban myth. These birds will remember you (threat)
This was beautifully demonstrated by a 2011 study conducted at the University of Washington. If you’ve ever heard anything about crow intelligence in your life this is probably the study you’ve heard about. I’ve been mainlining crow content for about a month now and I can confidently say this is the most famous crow study ever conducted and it’s not even close.
Researchers trapped, banded, and released crows around Seattle while wearing distinctive caveman masks. The crows, understandably, hated being trapped and banded, so they remembered the faces of their tormentors.
Within the first two weeks after trapping, an average of 26 percent of the crows encountered scolded the person wearing the dangerous mask. Around 15 months later, that figure was 30.4 percent. Three years later, with no action towards the crows since, the number of scolding crows had grown to 66 percent. Obviously, the crows were “talking” to each other about the humans, passing on the knowledge of the threat between peers and down through generations.
The angry crows “included individuals who’d never been tagged, indicating that the grudge had been passed on.”
According to the National Audubon Society, “The caveman getup elicited scolding from crows even when the mask was partially covered with a hat or worn upside down (the birds actually turned their heads to see the face right-side up!)”
So, let this be a warning to all owners of caveman masks (or whatever this thing is) in the Seattle area. Crows will not take kindly to you.
From a 2016 report:
It’s been 10 years, and not only have the crows not forgotten, the knowledge keeps spreading. … Nearly all of the birds originally trapped by the caveman are likely dead by now, yet the legend of Seattle’s Great Crow Satan still grows.
Crows “need only one experience to form a long-lasting memory of who can be trusted and who can’t,” so it’s important you behave with diplomacy and tact while in the vicinity of our corvid counterparts.
Lonely? Consider crow friendship
The good news is that this “long-lasting memory” thing works both ways. If you are an anti-avian antagonist, the birds will treat you as such, but if you behave with benevolence towards our bewinged brethren, you will be bestowed with birdly beatification.
One famous example of this was the eight-year-old girl who was lavished with gifts from local crows, as reported by the BBC.
(Interestingly, she was also located in the Seattle area, so some of the birds who loved her may have been the very same birds who hated the cavemen.)
This child, Gabi, accidentally befriended hordes of local birds when she was four and “prone to dropping food.”
She’d get out of the car, and a chicken nugget would tumble off her lap. A crow would rush in to recover it. Soon, the crows were watching for her, hoping for another bite.
As Gabi got older, she began feeding the crows more deliberately, and they soon started rewarding her with gifts.
“The crows would clear the feeder of peanuts, and leave shiny trinkets on the empty tray; an earring, a hinge, a polished rock.“
Gifts also included such prized possessions as a broken light bulb, a faded piece of black foam, and a blue Lego piece.
The crows, unsurprisingly, have different standards than humans for what makes a good gift – “Gabi has been given some icky objects. Her mother threw out a rotting crab claw, for example.”
See also:
Gabi points out a heavily rusted screw she prefers not to touch. It’s labelled “Third Favorite.” Asking her why an untouchable object is in the favourites, she answers, “You don’t see a crow carrying around a screw that much. Unless it’s trying to build its house.”
Gabi’s reputation among the local bird population also extends to her family.
When her mother, Lisa, lost her camera’s lens cap, “She didn’t even have to look for it. It was sitting on the edge of the birdbath.”
Had the crows returned it? Lisa logged on to her computer and pulled up their bird-cam. There was the crow she suspected. “You can see it bringing it into the yard. Walks it to the birdbath and actually spends time rinsing this lens cap.”
“I’m sure that it was intentional,” she smiles. “They watch us all the time. I’m sure they knew I dropped it. I’m sure they decided they wanted to return it.”
On a personal note, I am avidly attempting to befriend my local crows this winter. I will share updates as needed on this blog. Thanks for your attention to this important matter.
Guess what? I can hold grudges too
Let’s speak for a moment about the polar opposite of the benevolent eight-year-old Gabi. We need to discuss the enemies of the genus Corvus.
In the pages of Rabbit Cavern, the state of Oklahoma has only ever been associated with insane things (see: That Time The U.S. Government Terrorized Oklahoma City with 1,253 Sonic Booms) and I’m entirely unsurprised that this trend continues today.
During the 1930s and 1940s, the (human) inhabitants of Oklahoma were getting pretty bothered by the (crow) inhabitants of Oklahoma, and specifically the damage they were doing to their crops. They decided to solve this problem with dynamite.
According to Wikipedia’s editors, “A campaign in Oklahoma from 1934 to 1945 dynamited 3.8 million birds. The effect on populations was negligible and damage to agricultural crops did not decrease, and thus the campaign was halted due to its ineffectiveness.”
I am compelled to tell you that Wikipedia did not include a source for this claim but it seems like such a weirdly specific thing to make up so I’m choosing trust on this fine day. You are free to make your own judgments.
Some people in Upstate New York also tried to kill crows with dynamite in 1949 and thankfully it went so poorly for them. Like embarrassingly poorly. Like I’m sorry if any of you reading this are descendants of these failed crow killers because this story brings shame upon your family name. Anyway
Basically, these folks put a bunch of bombs in a field where they knew the crows liked to hang out – “But the plan ignored one thing: crows are smart.”
“Hundreds of sportsmen were stunned that afternoon, when the crows started roosting in a different spot, just far away enough to be out of the killing zone.”
They set off the bombs anyway, “But not a single crow was killed, they had all roosted in another plot, about a mile away from the dynamite site.”
Delightfully, “‘Operation Crow Extermination’ was described as a ‘dismal failure.’”
“The birds hoodwinked us and there is no disputing the fact,” J. Edward McGuire, president of the Falcon Sportsmen’s Club, admitted the next day.
“The crows were noisy today but had no formal comment,” the Utica Observer-Dispatch said.
“The cry of “Caw, Caw, Caw” changed to “Haw, Haw, Haw,” the Cato Citizen joked.
Now, these examples are dated – I’m not aware of anyone trying to utilize explosives against crows today – but that does not mean the threat to crows has disappeared.
I recently learned that the city of Rochester, Minnesota, has instituted a “crow abatement” program because the city has a big “crow problem” (I fail to see how crows could ever be a “problem” but ok)
According to the city’s Parks and Recreation director, “The droppings are a hazard for slipping and also a public health hazard,” to which i say “get over it” and also “please be nice to the crows”
Rochester has apparently had a crow problem since the 1980s. The crow population can get up to 20,000 in the winter, and many different anti-crow strategies have been tried over the years, including “lasers, starter guns, pots and pans,” and my favorite, “a shovel found at Mayo Clinic that made awful noises.”
With regards to crow abatement, Rochester’s Post Bulletin reports, “To say it’s been an ongoing effort is like saying each spring that Cubs fans think this year might be the year.”
The newest crow battle plan involves air rifles loaded with lethal ammunition. This strategy was reportedly pushed by the Mayo Clinic, so I do regrettably have to say that the Mayo Clinic is officially an enemy of Rabbit Cavern. I am starting an enemies list and the first entity on it is in fact the world-renowned medical center Mayo Clinic. Thanks for all the lives you’ve saved i guess, but the crow thing crosses a line.
Rochester’s Parks & Rec director clarified that “Mayo Clinic staff will not be using the rifles” which I honestly think is a shame.
What better way to let off some steam if you’re an overworked ER doctor than to go up to the roof and shoot a gun? Look, I watched The Pitt, okay? I understand what’s going on in there. Let them shoot guns.
Can someone ask the city of Rochester if they’ve tried the “field of dynamite” approach? Perhaps anti-aircraft artillery on the roof of the Mayo Clinic?
Honestly they should just ask 3M to move down to Rochester, the birds will be dead in no time after they poison the water with PFAS.
Anyway, I emailed the city of Rochester to (diplomatically) ask how the crow killing was going, and they were like “it’s fine i guess” but they didn’t have any major successes to share, so I’m choosing to frame this one as a “no news is good news” kind of response.
As far as my position on the matter, I’m pretty much aligned with this resident who spoke against the crow abatement efforts in front of the Rochester City Council:
“They’ve found it very comfortable to be here. Same as us, but we don’t want them to here, because it’s an inconvenience. How dare we think that we can make these decisions and kill these animals?”
How dare we, indeed.
Anyway, that’s all I have on crows for now. Thanks for reading, and please go feed a local crow with unsalted dry-roasted peanuts. And tell it I said hi :)
If you enjoyed this piece, consider tossing me a few bucks (I will spend it on snacks to feed my crows)
And if you’re interested in learning even more about crows, please check out this TED talk by John Marzluff, one of the world’s leading crow experts.
They see me. They know me. They come.
Seven this year, six last,
Sometimes quietly eying me: anticipating.
Sometimes squalling. Sometimes clucking.
I stand below them pinching
seedy bread crust to bite size,
telling the rosary of survival.
My murder discourages nearby intruders in wrestling feathered combat.
After I turn away they descend to strut and stockpile clumps,
then fly off to swallow in solitude,
getting on with their day.
This was so interesting! I've read about the facial recognition that crows have and it was great to get a more in depth understanding of their intelligence.