Clever Crows

Everyone has a crow story. Some people fear crows, and pointedly identify a flock as a murder of crows. Others, like me, appreciate them and are fascinated by their many behaviors. Professor John Marzluff at UW may have studied crows and other corvids more than anyone. He writes in Gifts of the Crow, “Corvids assume characteristics that were once ascribed only to humans, including self-recognition, insight, revenge, tool use, mental time travel, deceit, murder, language, play, calculated risk taking, social learning, and traditions.”

I’ve observed many of these characteristics, and others, in American Crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos), one of the most widespread of North American birds. If you aren’t already a fan of Port Townsend’s crows, I hope you will become one; consider the following:

Crows care for each other. It’s touching to see their mutual grooming, or allopreening. Not only do parents allopreen with young and mates, but also with sick or weak birds.

Crows are devoted parents. They preen, protect, and feed their young until the offspring are capable of fending for themselves. Crows too young to breed act as helpers, bringing sticks for the nest, then food, and helping keep the nest clean.

Crows are (generally) monogamous for life. Here an elderly pair share a driftwood log at the beach.

Crows are pristine. They like to bathe and keep their shining black feathers clean.  Local naturalist and bird photographer Bev McNeil tells of crows she once saw at Ft. Worden. “I witnessed three or four crows standing around a thatching ant mound while taking turns standing in the middle of the mound with wings spread out and allowing the ants to release their formic acid onto the crows’ feathers. The formic acid works as an insecticide for the crows’ skin. Incredible how the crows evolved to know to perform this act of self-healthcare.”

Crows are bold. When larger birds try to take an egg or young from their nest, crows even chase raptors as huge as a Bald Eagle. They also sneak in to steal a crab caught by a much larger gull. Courageous and omnipresent crows are often described in literature. I recently read Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, and Tana French’s latest mystery, and couldn’t help but notice they built suspense with their frequent mention of crows.

Crows are clever omnivores. Port Townsend crows spend hours combing the beach by Pt. Hudson for small invertebrates among the seaweed. They’ll also seek tasty morsels by the garbage cans. At one, this crow retrieved a delicious walnut.

Crows are energetic, and they know how to chill. One August day at Cape George, I noticed crows sitting quietly in the sun with their beaks wide open. Luanda Lynn Haupt explains in my favorite book about crows, Crow Planet, that this behavior is typical when they are “sunning.” “Crows that are sunning appear drunk… This is one of the only times that crows relax their ready alertness.”

Crows are communicative, and quite vocal. Have you ever noticed a single crow cawing, and suddenly more crows appear? One day on the Boat Haven beach, dozens of crows quickly assembled to forage and socialize before flying off together to their night-time roost. I learned that in 1971, two ornithologists published a paper about crow language. They identified crow calls that sent specific messages, including to assemble, to scold, and to disperse. Crows can also mimic other birds, and even learn to repeat human language.

Crows are unique. A crow that hangs out by the Maritime Center has a broken beak, and a crow I watched for a few years at the North Beach parking lot had a crossed bill.

Crows are playful. This crow seemed to enjoy tossing a blackberry into the air before swallowing it. In Margaret Renkl’s The Comfort of Crows, she tells of crows riding down snowy roofs on flat objects they use as sleds. She writes that they repeatedly, “haul their toy to the roofline and toboggan down the slope in what looks for all the world like playing.”

I love observing crows, but I’ve learned that they don’t like us to watch them! Now I use indirect glances, making sure they don’t know I’m watching them.