Crows are a great source of pleasure to me. I admire their bold, graphic good looks: wiry legs and strong beak, shining eyes, and smooth feathers accented with iridescent shine. I enjoy listening to their noisy announcements and conversations, knowing that whether one is broadcasting his name in braggadocio or informing the rest of the neighborhood of what she’s discovered, there is often more brainy expression and interaction going than in many a text-messaging flurry from a pack of attention-deficient humans.
Crows can be aggressive and mean-spirited like humans, too, as I well know from working many years on a heavily treed campus where nesting season was Open Season on certain passersby whom the crows chose to bully. But for the most part, when they’re not busy trying to defend their territory they devote a goodly amount of time and energy to exploring and problem-solving and even humorous play, that is also surprisingly easy to see through an anthropomorphic lens. If I see a crow taking a particular interest in anything, chances are pretty good that I’ll find it interesting myself, should I follow its lead.
I am too smart for you by half; you think you’re bright? Don’t make me laugh!
You think me infantile and boisterous, but cannot crack an oyster
And yet, I’ve dined on oysters thrice before you’ve opened one. How nice
That you consider yourselves wise to have your thoughts and synthesize
Them into action, yet still fail to see that mine makes yours seem pale,
When you consider that you’ve got advantages that I have not,
And still I’m able, while you strive and strain to merely keep alive,