Field Notes: Crows

~by Jim Eagleman

“It’s a murder,” my birder friend corrected me. What? Did he say murder?

“It’s a murder of crows, not a flock or covey. Use the proper terminology, please,” he said, a stickler for correct language.

I guessed this murder of crows, now cawing and loud, could be announcing a crime had been committed, avian outlaws back from a night of terror. But they swooped in, one by one, alighting on the topmost branches, forthright and with no sign of a felony. I adjusted my binocs, and just listened to their calls.

Another trait these birds are known for, far less gruesome, is their vocabulary. I heard variations in volume, tone, and tempo—some sounds guttural and harsh, others soft and almost caressing. They might have been engaged in an argument one minute, then more agreeing. Oftentimes crows seem to converse while other birds call or sing. It’s understandable how we imagine crows hold trials, noisy and brassy, condemn other members, and debate. Once when two crows attacked a third close by, that harried bird uttered a hollow, rattling, woodpecker-like sound I had never heard before. Crows can use at least 250 different calls and imitate other birds.

The common crow, fish crows, rooks, ravens, and jays all belong to the same family, the Corvidae— Magpies, too. These curious, investigative birds survive as scavengers; they feed on road-kills, worms, insects, and rodents. I sometimes see crows feeding in a corn stubble field, spread out over a large area, always within view of each other. This habit of safety in numbers provides mutual protection, another family trait. They warn each other of an attack from a bird of prey, their chief predator. During a burst of flight on roads, nearly too late, they are keenly aware of oncoming traffic. I suspect the same vigilance happens, should a coon appear near the nest or if predators approach.

When a crow dies or is killed, the murder will surround the deceased. This “funeral” isn’t thought to be mourning the dead. The crows may gather to find out what killed their member. The murder will chase predators in a behavior called mobbing. Like starlings and songbirds mobbing crows as threats, crows mob hawks and owls.

Our backwoods compost pile attracts crows each summer with vegetable scraps, husks and ears of corn, and eggshells worth investigating. One sentry lands on the edge of the box made of pallets while others perch overhead. Soon one flies down slowly to enter the box, the lookout muttering and repositioning. Some take turns to watch while others eat. I sense it is a mature and larger bird that feeds first. Others may return on their own or fly away impatient with waiting.

Intelligence is evaluated in many animal behavior labs throughout the country and world. The science of ethology helps scientists delve into understanding how animal and bird brains work. Known for their problem-solving skills, crows are also good communicators. Research shows crows don’t forget a face. Frowning or pleasant Halloween masks worn by researchers reveal differences in crow behavior. Nervous perching while calling denotes an intruder. They’ve been known to hold a grudge and caw madly at the researcher who trapped them.

The suspected destruction to agriculture by crows may be overstated. While they do attack corn and crops, they also may prevent damage by eating harmful insect pests. Stomach contents of crows living near crop fields reveal 60–90% contain injurious bugs.

Years ago, my birder friend Dwight Chamberlain used a pet crow at nature programs at a state park where he worked. Dwight showed visitors the crow’s ability to learn tricks: pull a string from a bottle for a reward and pick something from his pocket. A high perch gave the crow a commanding view. Its caws announced its presence. Other crows flew by for a look, and soon there was plenty of vocalizing. Dwight wore a toupee, and once during a program his pet crow landed on his head. Yep, you guessed it. The crow took off with the hairpiece and everyone, including Dwight, was surprised. But good natured and ever the educator, Dwight laughed along with the crowd.

Dwight’s interest in avian education, and his lifelong love of birds of prey particularly, led to the staff at Hardy Lake Reservoir, near Scottsburg, Ind., naming the hospital for injured birds of prey the Dwight Chamberlain Raptor Center. The interpretive staff travels throughout the state with unreleasable birds of prey to schools and events. Dwight was pleased with the honor, commenting, “It all started in my youth and my fascination with crows. There isn’t a more intelligent bird.”

While my birder friend may insist on calling them a murder, he has some dissenters. Not all ornithologists agree with the title. Poets have been using the term since the 15th century, alluding to the crow’s traditional association with violent death and harsh, raucous cries.

It may be time to come up with a replacement. Some ornithologists see the term feeding the public a negative outlook. “They aren’t a gang of nasty villains. These birds are just birds!”

Watch for crows this winter, at the feeder, along roads, announcing their presence. We’re better off living with and admiring these clever avian residents.