It’s rare to notice an absence in nature. Our brains are wired to see “This is here, this is new,” but unless we’re specifically watching for something, we don’t notice when it’s gone.
The crows are a case in point.
Last fall in the city of Pittsburgh everyone remarked that there were, “So many crows!” “Too many crows!” and even “The crows are awful!”
But look now. Where are they? Have you seen more than one or two lately? Have you seen any?
They are virtually gone.
We didn’t have to do anything to “get rid” of them. Some of them left town to nest in the suburbs and those who stayed to nest here are extremely secretive.
This is the crows’ quiet period.
If you don’t like crows, savor this moment. When their young fledge they’ll be noisy again.
This fall they’ll be back in the thousands and everyone will say, “There are so many crows!”
On Saturday morning there was a mystery on my street.
Ten minutes before dawn a huge flock of crows flew over my neighborhood, then turned and wheeled over the ballfield, cawing loudly.
They were hard to see in the dark but they were easy to hear. They circled several times outside my window. It was so unusual that I reported them on PABIRDS.
At mid-morning I heard sirens. Six police cars, a firetruck and an ambulance roared up my street to the ballfield. The firemen carried their medical emergency kits to the bleachers, an area not visible from my side of the park. Soon they returned and drove away. The ambulance stayed longer but they left too without doing anything.
Meanwhile camera crews from all three TV news stations set up their equipment on the other side of the ballfield and pointed their cameras at the bleachers. A plain white car arrived in front of my house and three people emerged, pulled on purple exam gloves, and walked toward the bleachers.
By now I had guessed that someone was dead. I couldn’t stand the suspense so I got my 10-power binoculars and walked around the ballfield to the vicinity of the TV crews.
With binoculars I could see that there was indeed a body on the cement bleachers. The police and detectives were taking pictures, checking the scene, examining, talking. The body was on its back, upside down, crumpled over itself as if it had fallen head first from the sky. It was in an unnatural position but its white face was up, easily seen from above in faint light.
So the sight of a crumpled body is why the crows wheeled and cawed.
The crows know. They saw it first. Now it’s up to the coroner and detectives to find out what happened.
p.s. Here and here are the news articles. The death was ruled an accident or suicide.
If I was to place a bet on crows I’d wager they didn’t spend last night in the plane trees on University Place in Oakland. I’d win this bet because of what I found there less than 24 hours ago.
Yesterday morning I got a call from a Pitt employee who tracked me down out of concern for the peregrines. Marian had found a very large raptor standing on the ground near Soldiers and Sailors Hall on University Place. The bird would not fly away and there were feathers scattered on the ground beneath its feet. She was concerned that this was one of the peregrines and that it was injured and unable to fly away.
The situation sounded like a red-tailed hawk on a kill but you never know. I was happy to help and went over to check.
As I arrived at University Place I noticed a lot of crow poop on the sidewalk beneath the London plane trees. The closer I got to the site, the more poop there was.
When I reached the place Marian described I didn’t find a large bird on the ground but I could tell exactly where he’d been. Right next to the sidewalk was a big pile of crow feathers, a few crow bones and a crow’s skull and beak. Whoa! Someone had been eating crow!
I imagined the fear in the flock when that raptor arrived. I’m sure it scared the poop out of them and they left in a hurry. No wonder the sidewalk was gross.
Now there’s one less crow among the 10,000+ who roost in Pittsburgh and those still living can see how he died.
I can pretty much guarantee the crows won’t be back there soon.
To those of us in eastern North America this bird looks all mixed up.
He has a crow head, blue jay colors and an incredibly long tail. He resembles crows and jays because he’s a corvid. We don’t see him in Pennsylvania because he lives west of Iowa and east of the Sierra Nevadas. Say hello to the black-billed magpie.
I saw this bird once, but now my sighting doesn’t count. Years ago I saw a magpie outside my airplane window as we taxied to the gate at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. Then, in their never-ending quest to reclassify birds the American Ornithological Union split the black-billed magpie from the European magpie and this bird dropped off my life list. He is now Pica hudsonia. The bird I saw in Paris was a Pica pica.
If I visited open country in the western U.S. I could easily re-add this bird to my list. Black-billed magpies are loud and conspicuous, midway in size between blue jays and American crows. Like crows they are smart, omnivorous and versatile. Their claim to fame is their very long tail (more than half their body length) and their huge ball-shaped stick nests.
Maybe I should fly to Denver and look out the airplane window. 😉
Crows coming to roost in Pittsburgh (photo by Sharon Leadbitter)
I was inspired to write the Crow Diary after I visited the roost last night in Oakland.
As I predicted the time change has forced evening rush hour to coincide with the crows’ return to the roost so it’s much easier to keep tabs on them. My friends and I call each other with the news.
Tony Bledsoe told me he had to “run the gauntlet” early yesterday morning to avoid crow poop falling from the trees near Crawford Hall.
Last night I went to see. When I got out of the car at Bigelow and Ruskin, it smelled like I was in the presence of a lot of birds. The crows were silent and almost impossible to see. They weren’t “in” the trees. They were on top of them.
Using binoculars I was able to count an average number of crows per tree: 55. In the nine trees on Ruskin Avenue: about 500.
Most of the tall trees in that neighborhood north of the Cathderal of Learning had crows on them, but the crows were silent. The pedestrians below had no idea that thousands of birds were sleeping above them.
Pittsburgh’s winter crows move their roost location a little every day. By next week they might not be near Crawford Hall.
p.s. As you can see from the Diary, I think crows speak in short sentences. 😉
As of last night, Pittsburgh’s huge winter flock of crows had not arrived yet but I expect them any day now. In the meantime I’ve been learning more about crows, and you can too.
Coming this Sunday, October 24, at 8:00pm on PBS’s Nature is an excellent program on crow intelligence called A Murder of Crows.
Crows have been watching us for a very, very long time but it’s only recently that scientists have begun to watch back. Here’s what they’ve found out. Did you know that…
Crows watch us more than we watch them.
Crows can recognize the faces of people who’ve hurt them.
Crows teach each other which people are dangerous so the entire flock knows who to avoid.
Crows probably got a bad reputation because we know they’re a lot like us (intelligent and social), but crows will do the things that humans will do that we aren’t particularly proud of.
This is just a taste of what you’ll learn from A Murder of Crows this Sunday, October 24 at 8:00pm on PBS.
In Pittsburgh, it’s on WQED. Perhaps our crows will arrive in time to see it.
p.s. A “murder of crows” is a flock. As the show opens there’s a very good black and white animation of a crow flock that is frankly rather scary. Even I, who love crows, found it disturbing but it was the only disturbing image in an otherwise upbeat and fascinating program.
When I found this photo the other day it brought back memories. Here are a couple of ravens at the overlook at the Petrified Forest. What are they doing? I’ll bet they’re waiting for handouts.
Back in the early part of this century I visited Death Valley and made a point of stopping at the overlook on the eastern side. In the parking lot I found a pair of ravens obviously waiting for visitors. As I parked the car they sized me up. Likely food source? “No. Leave her alone.”
Soon a family mini-van arrived and the kids piled out with snack food. Jackpot!
One raven chose the six-year-old girl as a likely pushover. He walked to within 10 feet and faced her, watching every move as she brought potato chips to her mouth. I could hear his thoughts shouting, “Throw one to me!”
Something about her eye contact said “OK, I’ll give you one” and the raven stepped forward as the girl handed him a potato chip. His beak was as high as her hand.
After several chips Mom broke up this conclave. No problem. Mission accomplished.
Eastern ravens aren’t as bold around people but they’re still tricksters. On Sunday I saw two ravens at Keystone State Park in Westmoreland County. One by one they flew out of sight beyond the hill, then appeared above the trees carrying a pinkish-white teardrop-shaped blob. A small plucked chicken? I couldn’t tell what it was but someone would be puzzled to find it missing.
The ravens made my day. I always enjoy watching the Wise Guys.
(photo from Wikimedia Commons; Click on the photo to see the original.)
In my Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide it’s called Small-flowered Crowfoot. An alternate name is Kidney-leaved Buttercup. Its Latin name is Ranunculus abortivus.
This small flower is not spectacular but I’m always happy to see it because it has a crow in its name.
