"The noise from the rookery was louder, even though the daylight was beginning to die. They could see the dark birds thronging over the treetops, more agitated than before, flapping and turning to and fro."
--Susan Cooper, The Dark is Rising
Readers with excellent memories will recall that I opened a post in November 2013 with that the same quotation. I was discussing the onset of autumn, finding myself beset as I walked through my neighborhood by the spiteful shrieks emanating from hordes of crows: "They caw maliciously, spitefully, hurling their jeers at me as I pass."
I learned this week that those crows are almost as intelligent as I feared, and that they come to my neighborhood from far away. According to a front-page article in the Seattle Times, crows from all over Seattle and surrounding areas return each night to their 58-acre roosting grounds in Bothell -- at the north end of Lake Washington -- adjacent to the Bothell satellite campus of the University of Washington. Some 16,000 crows, every night. A UW biology team is taking advantage of their proximity to study the crows' behavior and language.
Yes, they actually have a language, or at least a number of sounds -- "elaborate vocalizations," with complex meanings -- most of whose meanings have so far eluded researchers's ability to translate. Crows have been known to identify human beings by their faces; they will remember the face of a kind or unkind person for years. More startling, they are somehow able to pass on descriptions of such noteworthy humans to other crows, causing these other crows to approach or shun the humans when encountering them for the first time.
That shows more ability to recognize and remember human faces than I possess myself.
They also mate for life, and are thought to hold "funerals" for their dead. I was once deafened in my house by the cawing of crows in my front yard. They were lamenting a crow that lay dead -- from unknown causes -- on my front lawn.
Crows fly at some length each day to reach their central roosting ground -- up to thirty miles for the Bothell roost -- for reasons that are partly due to "safety in numbers," one researcher notes, but also due to "a social component that we don't understand very well."
The Bothell roost -- large and impressive as it is -- is small compared with roosts in other parts of the country -- gatherings that often attract 75,000 crows. A roost in Fort Cobb, Oklahoma, has been estimated to number two million crows. But, then, what else is there in Oklahoma? Aside from the former Seattle SuperSonics?
Until ten years ago, the Seattle area's central roost was on Foster Island, only a few blocks from my house. But habitat restoration efforts in Bothell, including tree growth, caused the entire extended crow family to pull up roots and head for the 'burbs. Maybe the growth of the right sort of trees attracted the birds. Or, I would suggest, it may have just been an example of urban "black flight."
In any event, when you walk out of your house into a mass of crows cawing at each other, just remember -- they're a lot smarter than other birds, and a lot smarter than you'd like to believe. They have things to say -- some of it about you -- and a means to say it. And they may be commuting thirty miles each day, just to keep an eye on you in your local habitat.
As one Bothell university student observed, unscientifically:
“There’s some crazy things with these crows,” sophomore Aliyanda Harris said. “I think they’re starting to wonder who we are and communicate that to their homies. It’s creepy.”
So smile at your local crows, and -- if so inclined -- offer them a few delicacies to eat. It never hurts to have a few friends.
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