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Fish crows and other signs of spring

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It’s still winter out there: the snow is blowing around over the frozen ground. But somewhere nearby there must be open water, because the fish crows are back. I heard the call this morning: the distinctive “uh-uh”, like a three-year-old refusing to put on shoes. I love that nasal call. I had come to the land of the fish crows. When we first moved to this city on the southern edge of the Adirondacks, I wondered why there were trees full of juvenile crows all hanging out together. They sounded to me like juveniles at least, nasal and squawky; and they were smaller than the average crow. They flocked together, taking off from one tree and descending on another with loud commotion. Was this a roving band of city juveniles? I’d never seen this behavior before. Where were their parents? I soon found out they were a different kind of crow altogether. I had come to the land of the fish crows. And they were everywhere, till November, when they suddenly took off. Where did they go? I looked it
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Watching a baby crow in the yard

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A baby crow (smaller than an adult, but fledged) visited the yard all alone, without sibling or parents. First it landed on the crow-feeding stump and ate peanuts till they were gone. Then it stayed on the stump and pecked at things only it could see: bugs, perhaps, or seeds. Then it hopped off the stump and started waddling through the yard feeling quite at home, looking left and right, pecking occasionally, once pulling up a dangling earthworm.  This young crow’s first foray to our yard unattended reminded me of those first trips to the corner store when I was 9 and 10, walking to the store with money and without parents, providing myself with convenient food like Lay’s chips and Sunkist orange soda. In the summer it was a popsicle or ice cream sandwich. My first attempts at independent foraging produced much less protein than the first attempt of this young crow, choosing earthworm and peanuts. I’m glad the young crows see our yard as a healthy convenient store all their own that th
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The Squirrel

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 When I started leaving peanuts in the yard each morning, the crows were not the only ones to notice. The neighborhood gray squirrel came over to investigate as well.  This squirrel has grown fat off horse chestnuts all fall. I watched him expertly balance as he ran along the phone line two stories up like a tight-rope walker with a tail, carrying a horse chestnut in his front two paws. In the urban wildlife landscape, squirrels are the true acrobats. So now this squirrel has noticed free peanuts on the yard every morning, and is not afraid to lay claim to it. To misquote Robert Frost, "He things all peanuts are his by rights."* So I've unwittingly created a scarce resource for which there is now conflict. This morning I sat watching by the window while a young crow paced back and forth looking right and left, waiting for the right opportunity to leap up onto the peanut rock. No sooner did she do that, than a larger crow swooped down to claim her spot. She moved over, def
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City crows

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We moved to a new city, and I wasted no time looking for crows, because that's what I do.  I saw them from a distance, the family of crows. They hung out in a vacant field where there used to be a diner. At times they were in the bank parking lot. Other times they were outside the bowling alley, coexisting with a flock of seagulls. Every morning before walking the dogs, I filled my pockets with peanuts. When the crows were out I left them tiny offerings of peanuts. Little piles of peanuts at the bank, the bowling alley, the vacant field. It didn't take them long to notice, because crows are clever birds and they really like peanuts. They also have a birds-eye view, so it didn't take them long to figure out where the peanuts came from. One morning returning from a walk, I saw a crow perched on the phone line waiting for me. "Hello," I said, "this is where I live. Hold on, I'll get you more peanuts." Now I just feed the crows in the front yard each mor
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