Crow bros
In April I committed to extending friendship to the crows that share the forest where I live.
I’ve lived in this house, and in this forest, since 2001. Crows have always been here. I’ve never been swooped or harassed in any way.
I also haven’t been an obvious ally. Just someone who allows plenty of room for crows to be crows and appreciates similar consideration.
Maybe it’s because I’m almost 50 and feel drawn to being in harmony with my surroundings in that way that perimenopausal and menopausal women do. Maybe it’s because I know that when my self care starts slipping, caring for someone else (like a plant, animal, or friend in need - not a capable person who feels entitled to my labor) can help me get back to it.
Probably both. Probably other layers in there, too.
The first effort was to designate a feeding area for the crows. I wanted things for water and food that were easy to clean, sturdy, and maybe a bit shiny. My first trip to the charity shop, I found a gorgeous glass bowl and a ceramic serving platter.
There is a cluster of log cuts in the forest we used to use as chairs. As untreated wood does, it grew things and was occasionally unappealing in texture. They transitioned to super slippery obstacle course platforms and resting areas for squirrels. Two of them now hold the bowl and the platter.
I filled the bowl. I scattered peanuts on the platter. A friend gave them to me two years ago when I mentioned I wanted to befriend the crows. I put them on top of the refrigerator because while I was full of good intentions I didn’t have the capacity to follow through at that time.. The cats jumped on top of the refrigerator, ate through the bag, and ate many of the peanuts.
Cats.
There were enough remaining peanuts from that gift to stock the platter for a few weeks. The platter was (and still is) in easy reach of squirrels, and as much as I want to support those who need it, it feels like the squirrels really take advantage. They pirate the feeder for the songbirds already.
So I waited until I saw or heard the crows in the forest. Then I’d walk out, shaking the cat-bitten plastic bag of peanuts and whistling a fifth interval five times.
The crows came to watch. I was delighted. Giddy, even.
They’d perch on the nearby cherry or maple tree and study me as I laid the peanuts out. I talked to them about the selection of the day, which was always the same. I’d encourage them to take what they wanted and leave the rest.
Then I’d retreat to the house and watch through the windows. I jumped up and down and cheered the first time a crow landed on the platter. I watched him take a peanut, turn his head a bit, and fly-hop to the adjacent stump with the water bowl. He dunked the peanut in the water.
The crows have learned that I am most likely to have food for them shortly after I go outside with Greer (the German shepherd). Almost every time we go outside for a potty break, a sentinel crow will watch to see if I come back out of the house after I take her inside. When I do, there is one “caw” to signal to the partner and another mating pair that food is available.
Sometimes I return to the house and watch from the windows. Sometimes I sit on the front steps.
Every time I celebrate sharing this space.
Three months into this relationship, I continue to observe and learn. I can tell the difference between the males and females by appearance. I cannot distinguish the two females or the two males by appearance. I hope that will come in time.
One of the males likes to visit the water for the songbirds. He waits for a turn and lands on the rim, dwarfing the shallow dish. He dips his beak into the water and usually squirts it back out, kind of like a fountain, twice. It doesn’t look like an accident.
Once that is out of his system, he drinks.
He has access to the crow-sized watering station, but he prefers the one meant for the sparrows and wrens. He comes for water and then leaves. He does not harass or impede the smaller birds. The little ones wait for him to clear out and return to the area, just like he waits for them to leave before he arrives.
It has been a wholesome and gorgeous activity, and I hope it will continue to be. I have no intentions of decreasing my level of service to the wildlife.
I was telling The Boy about the bird events of the day while we were settling for bed. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was sharing an amount of detail that was probably overwhelming, and that I might have also been talking about something that didn’t interest him. “Dude, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear so much about this.”
“Mom, you listen to me all the time. Of course I’m gonna listen to your bird stories!” He grinned at me, and even though I could tell he was sincere I also caught a whiff of whew-that-was-a-lot-of-details-about-crows-and-I’m-glad-I-escaped.
There is probably a word for this in German or Japanese that I do not know.
I tried to settle down and I still very much wanted to talk about birds. Instead I mused aloud. “I wonder what this level of crow devotion says about a person?”
“I think it means that you are a good person who does good things and you care about others. Especially the ones who are misunderstood,” he said.
I hope they leave you lovely gifts one day!