Crows
One of my life goals is to befriend a crow.
It’s not the loftiest ambition, I’ll concede, and it may be hard to understand if you belong to the very large group of people who look up on gloomy days, take in the black silhouettes churning in slow whirlpools overhead, and think, “Horrid.”
Crows get a bad rap, often falling somewhere in the realm of nuisance and omen. Which: fair. Their caws aren’t as melodious as those of other songbirds, and while they’re incredible imitators, it can be ear-grating to hear the not-so-sonorous squawks that come with large gatherings. Their opportunistic eating patterns might serve crows well, but it’s a frustrating wont for anyone who’s tried and failed to keep their garbage bags intact long enough for collection. And as for their “creepy” nature, it can admittedly be a bit unnerving to realize you’re being watched by several pairs of beady eyes.
Even so, crows stand out as one of the most clever, inquisitive, crafty animals in the world—and much more similar to humans than you might imagine. Take their social structures. Like many an American Person, the American Crow thrives in family groups that consist of a monogamous breeding pair and their offspring. (Incidentally, these groups are called “murders,” a term that might strike a further chord with anyone who’s had to endure a tense Thanksgiving dinner with their least favorite uncle.) While monogamy is fairly common in the avian world, the thing that makes crows truly unique lies in the behavior of their young; adolescents may stay with their parents for up to five years, helping raise, feed, and protect their nestling and fledgling siblings until they finally break away to go find their own mate.
Or maybe pursue a college degree.
Okay, okay: college is probably a step too far. But crows are nevertheless as bright as the shiny trinkets they’re rumored to go after (an old wives’ tale—crows are more likely to be scared of shiny things than attracted to them), with some experts ranking their intelligence at about that of a seven-year-old child's.
Recent groundbreaking research has suggested that crows are not only self-aware, able to think about their own thoughts as they problem-solve, but also conscious; in other words, crows are capable of having and remembering subjective experiences. Until very recently, both these traits were believed to be exclusive to humans and a few select other primates.
Bolstered by such acumen, it’s no great wonder crows display several behaviors that, like self-awareness and consciousness, were long thought to be definitively human. Crows are known to make and use tools, for example. Individuals have been documented carrying and pouring water using cups; shaping twigs into hooks and using them to fish out hard-to-reach food; dropping nuts onto roadways and waiting for cars to break the shells open before collecting them; teaming up at water fountains, with one bird pushing the button while another drinks; and, my personal favorite, launching pieces of pinecones at the heads of ne’er-do-well tree-climbers who meander too close to their nests.
Their exceptionality doesn’t end with tools.
Among an oeuvre of other noteworthy feats, crows can not only recognize human faces, but recall them for up to a decade after a memorable encounter. They may very well be capable of empathy, as hinted at by how they treat their injured companions, bringing them food and even aiding them in movement regardless of whether or not the injured party belongs to the same social group. Crows hold so-called “funerals” for their dead, mobbing around the corpse in large gatherings and observing it (sometimes circling and cawing, sometimes watching in silence from a distance) for about twenty minutes before dispersing. They have regional dialects, their vocalizations varying between locations and even murders. In the era of the Anthropocene, when so many other avian species are undergoing alarming population declines, crows have managed to thrive thanks to their ingenuity.
They are also, to my endless delight, known to befriend people.
A quick Google search will reveal a trove of anecdotes from people who, unwittingly or not, have become honorary members of a murder after offering food (unsalted peanuts is a common recommendation) or some other kindness.
What does crow friendship look like? A lot like human friendship, actually. Much like a roommate who steals your brewskies from the fridge but makes up for it by bringing you souvenirs from their latest vacation and fending off your awful ex, crows are known to physically defend their two-legged companions from perceived threats and even occasionally leave gifts like soda tabs or candy hearts on their person’s doorstep.
Are these forms of gratitude? Attempts to earn more food? A sort of adoption, similar to how breeding pairs will sometimes adopt young from outside their family? Researchers are split, but as we continue to develop new methods of studying corvids, I’m optimistic we’re on the precipice of breaking down the door into why crows interact with humans in the ways that they do.
It always makes me a little sad to spot the Styrofoam crows perched among the ghouls and goblins of other Halloween decorations. Because as ominous or creepy as these birds may sometimes seem, to reduce them to their negative connotations feels like a disservice. Crows are more than grating caws and garbage-picking; they are also fiercely loyal, protective friends, and, in many ways, reflections of ourselves.
Even (especially?) when they’re launching pinecones at our heads.
It’s not the loftiest ambition, I’ll concede, and it may be hard to understand if you belong to the very large group of people who look up on gloomy days, take in the black silhouettes churning in slow whirlpools overhead, and think, “Horrid.”
Crows get a bad rap, often falling somewhere in the realm of nuisance and omen. Which: fair. Their caws aren’t as melodious as those of other songbirds, and while they’re incredible imitators, it can be ear-grating to hear the not-so-sonorous squawks that come with large gatherings. Their opportunistic eating patterns might serve crows well, but it’s a frustrating wont for anyone who’s tried and failed to keep their garbage bags intact long enough for collection. And as for their “creepy” nature, it can admittedly be a bit unnerving to realize you’re being watched by several pairs of beady eyes.
Even so, crows stand out as one of the most clever, inquisitive, crafty animals in the world—and much more similar to humans than you might imagine. Take their social structures. Like many an American Person, the American Crow thrives in family groups that consist of a monogamous breeding pair and their offspring. (Incidentally, these groups are called “murders,” a term that might strike a further chord with anyone who’s had to endure a tense Thanksgiving dinner with their least favorite uncle.) While monogamy is fairly common in the avian world, the thing that makes crows truly unique lies in the behavior of their young; adolescents may stay with their parents for up to five years, helping raise, feed, and protect their nestling and fledgling siblings until they finally break away to go find their own mate.
Or maybe pursue a college degree.
Okay, okay: college is probably a step too far. But crows are nevertheless as bright as the shiny trinkets they’re rumored to go after (an old wives’ tale—crows are more likely to be scared of shiny things than attracted to them), with some experts ranking their intelligence at about that of a seven-year-old child's.
Recent groundbreaking research has suggested that crows are not only self-aware, able to think about their own thoughts as they problem-solve, but also conscious; in other words, crows are capable of having and remembering subjective experiences. Until very recently, both these traits were believed to be exclusive to humans and a few select other primates.
Bolstered by such acumen, it’s no great wonder crows display several behaviors that, like self-awareness and consciousness, were long thought to be definitively human. Crows are known to make and use tools, for example. Individuals have been documented carrying and pouring water using cups; shaping twigs into hooks and using them to fish out hard-to-reach food; dropping nuts onto roadways and waiting for cars to break the shells open before collecting them; teaming up at water fountains, with one bird pushing the button while another drinks; and, my personal favorite, launching pieces of pinecones at the heads of ne’er-do-well tree-climbers who meander too close to their nests.
Their exceptionality doesn’t end with tools.
Among an oeuvre of other noteworthy feats, crows can not only recognize human faces, but recall them for up to a decade after a memorable encounter. They may very well be capable of empathy, as hinted at by how they treat their injured companions, bringing them food and even aiding them in movement regardless of whether or not the injured party belongs to the same social group. Crows hold so-called “funerals” for their dead, mobbing around the corpse in large gatherings and observing it (sometimes circling and cawing, sometimes watching in silence from a distance) for about twenty minutes before dispersing. They have regional dialects, their vocalizations varying between locations and even murders. In the era of the Anthropocene, when so many other avian species are undergoing alarming population declines, crows have managed to thrive thanks to their ingenuity.
They are also, to my endless delight, known to befriend people.
A quick Google search will reveal a trove of anecdotes from people who, unwittingly or not, have become honorary members of a murder after offering food (unsalted peanuts is a common recommendation) or some other kindness.
What does crow friendship look like? A lot like human friendship, actually. Much like a roommate who steals your brewskies from the fridge but makes up for it by bringing you souvenirs from their latest vacation and fending off your awful ex, crows are known to physically defend their two-legged companions from perceived threats and even occasionally leave gifts like soda tabs or candy hearts on their person’s doorstep.
Are these forms of gratitude? Attempts to earn more food? A sort of adoption, similar to how breeding pairs will sometimes adopt young from outside their family? Researchers are split, but as we continue to develop new methods of studying corvids, I’m optimistic we’re on the precipice of breaking down the door into why crows interact with humans in the ways that they do.
It always makes me a little sad to spot the Styrofoam crows perched among the ghouls and goblins of other Halloween decorations. Because as ominous or creepy as these birds may sometimes seem, to reduce them to their negative connotations feels like a disservice. Crows are more than grating caws and garbage-picking; they are also fiercely loyal, protective friends, and, in many ways, reflections of ourselves.
Even (especially?) when they’re launching pinecones at our heads.
First published in the Pioneer Tribune on October 24, 2024