For several years, I’ve tried to encourage a large murder of crows from the surrounding neighborhood to come and roost near our home. Since many people consider crows to be nuisances, this statement may be a bit hard to understand. Why would someone knowingly encourage a ‘pest’ to come and stay by their home?
It’s a simple answer.
Crows are actually not nuisances. They are the most intelligent bird species that we know of, with the exception of other corvidae (crow family), like jays and ravens. They have an incredibly sophisticated social structure. Crows mate for life, mourn the loss of a family member and continue to live with their parents for several years after they become independent.
Crows have an incredibly sophisticated language as well. Not only can they caw and scold and laugh, but they can also mock human and animal noises and some scientists think that they can understand certain aspects of human speech and recognize discernible facial features between a series of different people.
(For more on the intelligent crow, check out this amazing video from Nature at PBS.org: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/a-murder-of-crows/full-episode/5977/)
So, I’ve been encouraging crows to be comfortable with our home and our family, so that I can enjoy their antics, and maybe learn more about their lifestyle and possibly encourage one or two to become quite docile.
It’s been done.
It’s a strange hobby to have, I admit, but it’s cheap and it’s fascinating for me.
The other day, when Micki came home from dropping the youngest at school, she told me about a “huge raven” in the driveway.
“First,” I said, knowingly, “there aren’t any ravens around here. They like high elevations, like at Pilot Mountain.” ( I know this, because one of our friends is an ornithologist, and I’ve asked him many questions about it.)
“Whatever it is, there is a huge black bird out there.”
Finally, I thought, they’re finally getting used to us, and are brave enough to be around us, without being fearful!
So I continued to putter around and try to slowly build up some momentum to accomplish my list of things to do on my day off. I didn’t want to interrupt the crow, especially if it found something tasty.
As I was getting some tools from my shed, a large black blot of movement caught the corner of my eye. Glancing over, I saw a very big crow hunkered down under one of my mother-in-law’s garden chairs.
The bird was obviously not doing well. It simply hunkered down when I walked near it, looking at me nervously and quivering. I knew this bird was not doing well at all.
Of course my first thought was West Nile Virus, since it is known to affect crows and because we’ve had a pretty bad year for mosquitoes.
(For more on West Nile Virus follow this lik: http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/dvbid/westnile/index.htm)
The first thing I did was call the Health Department. I figured that they would be able to come, test the bird and let me know what else to do about the situation. I remember recently hearing that this was in fact the correct course of action for suspected West Nile virus outbreaks.
The Health Department transferred me to Animal Control. Animal Control transferred me to the Valerie H. Schindler Wildlife Rehabilitation Center.
We have one of the largest ‘natural habitat, walkthrough’ zoos in the world within six miles of our house. They have a vast number of vets who will work to save any animal you can safely transport to their facility. They gave me instructions and I set about following them.
I got a heavy throw blanket from my shed, and a large plastic bin lent to us by friends who’d recently delivered twelve giant iris plants to us and my work gloves.
I approached and delicately lifted the bird. He was so weak that he couldn’t even manage a good peck at me in his own defence. He fluttered, though, and I lost my grip on his sleek black feathers. He landed and flumped over on his side, gasping.
Cursing myself for my nervousness, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the next try. I actually believe he knew I was trying to help. His family, who were swooping and scolding me, did not seem to think so, however.
Turning toward them, as I approached their sick family member for the second attempt, I said in a gentle voice, “I’m trying to help. I’m not going to hurt him.” They didn’t believe me. The scolding and swooping continued. I can’t blame them.
I finally got the poor creature into the bin with the throw and the bin into my van.
I had gotten the address of the rehab center earlier, so I turned on my GPS and we headed out.
I delivered the crow to the assistant staff at the center and they gave me a card with a case number on it, the unceremoniously sent me on my way. Turning as I left, I asked how soon they would know anything. The woman in charge gave me a standard and well practiced answer: “It may be several days.”
I felt very much the same as I have when I’ve had to leave my dogs or cats at the vet overnight: sick in the stomach.
Several hours later unable to tolerate the lack of information, I called the number on the card and recited the case number to the voice on the other end. A few seconds later another voice came on the line.
“First, let me say thank you for not killing the bird. A lot of people consider crows to be a nuisance, and it is nothing for them to kill them rather than get them the help they need.”
Shocked, I tried to stammer something out, but she continued.
“The crow is probably a juvenile. It is emaciated and dehydrated. Right now we are trying to get it stabilized, but he’s far gone. A vet will probably come this afternoon, but they won’t be able to do a thorough diagnostic until we’ve gotten him properly nourished and stable. Any stress can seriously harm them when they’re not well.”
I sighed. I knew that I had been responsible for some stressors to the crow. The woman seemed to read my mind.
“You did good by the crow, sir,” she said, “you might have saved his life.”
She told me that she’s been working with crows and ravens in North Carolina for twenty years. Figuring she’d know what to do about a concerning secondary issue, I pressed her for a bit more information.
“The rest of the murder is quite upset with me. They think I’ve hurt their family member. I’ve worked consistently to try to get crows around my house because I really like these birds and I don’t want to undo that.”
There was a long pause on the other end, which I imagined was either incredulity or just plain shock. “You should give them bird seed. Let them see you do it. They will understand the gesture.”
It was my turn to be incredulous.
“They can understand gestures?”
The woman chuckled. “You’d be extremely surprised what they understand. We’re only just beginning to understand how smart these birds are.”
I’ll call again in the next few days, with a significant amount of trepidation about the poor bird’s condition, but I’m very glad that I was able to help him.
Now I just need to get some bird seed.
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