American crow.
There shouldn’t be so many crows. I know this. I tend to ignore it, because I like crows. They’re smart—maybe the smartest wild bird—and their language fascinates me. I sometimes obsess over their language. For instance, they’ve got this particular call: two caws, a pause, and two more caws. I’ve also heard a simple five-caw call; this is a five-caw call without the middle caw. What does it mean?
But there are too many. Something’s amiss. Something’s out of balance.
I don’t pretend to know what it is. I just know I have an eye (and an ear?) for balance, so I know imbalance when I see it (hear it?). Something’s out of kilter. Some pattern’s gone akimbo.
The comforting thing is, Nature will abide. Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes there’s suffering. But in the long run, Nature will restore the balance. It might mean extinction. It might mean—will probably mean—sorrowful loss of life. But Nature will smooth things over eventually.
Gulls at Clam Cove.
Today, as usual, the first bird I counted was a crow. I heard the caw of an American crow soon after awakening, in fact—from bed. An hour or so later, out on the frigid, sun-splashed deck, I heard a black-capped chickadee. An hour or two after that, I heard a goldfinch and house sparrow up the road from me. I think the new tenants of a neighboring rental place must’ve hung a feeder.
This late-afternoon, while driving up to the Rockport Village post office, I looked over the guardrail to Clam Cove and saw a cloud of small gulls flapping actively in the dwindling, angular sunlight. At that moment, I decided to walk that shore on my return. And so I did. It was cold, windy. The sun was just about to set. It must’ve been low tide. I nearly slid down the snowy bank—just barely caught myself. Great plates of ice lay at odd angles on the flat amid crunchy masses of seaweed and rocks and empty clamshells. Away at the edge of the tide were herring gulls, black-backed gulls, and dozens of little gulls—many of them the same Bonaparte’s gulls I saw there a couple days ago, no doubt. Although I’m sure it’s a common sight at this season, I’d personally never seen so many small gulls together. They were half the size of the herring gulls. I took some photos.
Off in the waters at the opposite bank of the cove I saw a good number of ducks too distant to identify. I imagine them to have been black ducks, maybe goldeneyes and buffleheads, maybe a merganser or two. The sun was going down. The wind came gusting from the southwest. It was cold.
The temperature stuck in the 20s (F) all day. Tonight, the sky is clear and the stars are vivid. I feel like I might reach up and touch Orion.
Today’s List
American crow
Black-capped chickadee
Hairy woodpecker
American goldfinch
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Bonaparte’s gull
Greater black-backed gull
Clam Cove, Rockport, Maine, 01 February 2010.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, Bonaparte's gull, greater black-backed gull, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, ring-billed gull
Hey Brian, I’m curious why you think that there are “too many” crows. It’s not like you’re seeing huge flocks flying around all the time like in “The Birds.” I only see large flocks when the birds are heading for roost at day’s end or when there’s a big threat that draws in crows from miles around (like a perched red-tail) or when there’s good food to be had–like at Clam Cove the other day at low tide. I think in winter, too, crows tend to flock up more because they aren’t nesting. In my neighborhood, at least, I pretty much just see the same loose family group most of the year, with more birds coming from all directions if they raise an alarm (as with perched red-tail, above).
But you raise a good point about balance, because I think human presence enables there to be more crows. Just as the old open dumps enabled gull populations to skyrocket, leading to a decimation of nesting seabirds on offshore islands–like puffins, razorbills, and terns… crows seem to thrive on the edges of human existence. And coyotes. There are definitely more coyotes around than there used to be. But what is true balance? Nature without humans? And yet, we’re a product of nature as well… Food for thought on a snowy day.
Interestingly, a birder friend in Illinois reports a dearth of crows there since West Nile Virus hit. Sad, really, because crows rely on family groups to raise the year’s young–if the family starts dying off, that becomes hard to do successfully.
Thank you for your beautiful reports!
K, thank you.
I might’ve chosen my words more carefully. Of course there aren’t too many crows—there are exactly the right number of crows. It’s just that I sense their numbers are far higher than they used to be, which causes me to pass judgment. (Not on the crows, on their numbers.) But who am I to judge?
Nature, of course, will have her way with all our numbers ultimately. As noted: she will abide.
Thank you again.
B