Shameless

Just saw a crow land on our birdfeeder; it was way too big for it, therefore awkward, and quite unable to get a seed from the evenly placed feeding holes. Moreover, something nasty hung from its beak, perhaps the remainder of a worm.

At last it flew away and left me thinking that it was so shamelessly just like a bird.

Most of our bird visitors sit there seemingly proud of their grace and peck at the seeds on offer sharply, accurately, with a kind of swift élan.

The Crows are Back

In October 1999 the USGS Wildlife Health Center issued a health alert to notify natural resource agencies “of the emergence of the West Nile virus in both free ranging and captive birds in the New York City area.” West Nile virus is transmitted by mosquitoes and affects some eighteen species of birds, most notably American crows, but blue jays, mallards, and several kinds of hawks were also affected if in low numbers (link). The experts did not know whether the virus would spread but thought not—because crows are not migratory birds.

Migratory or not, the disease arrived in our area by the fall of 2001. The Associated Press announced the fact in an August 29 story titled “Detroit Crows Have West Nile Virus,” citing the Michigan Department of Community Health, Lansing. Down on the ground, we noticed a sharp drop in numbers about six years ago—and later crows just about disappeared. I mentioned that in a tribute to crows and their kin on this blog last year here.

Well! Late this Spring Brigitte comes in from outside and says, full of wonder and a hint of pleasure. “I think I heard some crows. I may have even seen one.” — And, yes! They’re back. I’ve since both heard and seen them, in good numbers, flying and settling, wonderful, sleek black forms, sharp, unsettling sounds—that strike our ears quite pleasantly now.

This brings to mind an old poem about crows. Here the first verse of it:

Two old crows sat on a fence rail.
Two old crows sat on a fence rail,
Thinking of effect and cause,
Of weeds and flowers,
And nature’s laws.
One of them muttered, one of them stuttered,
One of them stuttered, one of them muttered.
Each of them thought far more than he uttered.
One crow asked the other crow a riddle.
One crow asked the other crow a riddle:
The muttering crow
Asked the stuttering crow,
“Why does a bee have a sword to his fiddle?
Why does a bee have a sword to his fiddle?”
“Bee-cause,” said the other crow,
“Bee-cause,
B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B B-cause.”
     [From Two Old Crows by Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931)]

The verse, of course, needs modernizing. Around here, anyway, it should be titled “Two Young Crows.”

To Correct a Neglect

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, ‘art sure no craven
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’
     [The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe]

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she’s like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.
     [Love Minus Zero/No Limit, Bob Dylan]

Yesterday on PBS the Nature program presented a fascinating show about the intelligence of crows—A Murder of Crows. You can see an introduction to the show here. Granted, there is a certain tension, a certain distance between Science and Poetry, but writers who prepare the narrative belong to the poetic tribes. Not this time. This pleasing program featured not one mention of the raven. Herewith the answer to the question I always ask: What is the difference between the crows and ravens? The answer: Both belong to the class of birds, Aves, the order of Passeriformes, the family of Corvidae, and the genus Corvus. Then there are forty-one species and some subspecies of the genus, of which several are ravens, the most common being, well, the Common Raven, called Corvus corax. In the United States we see the American Crow; it is called Corvus brachyrhynchos. Crows are just slightly smaller in size than ravens. They also have smaller and more curved beaks. The American Crow is susceptible to West Nile virus. They used to be quite numerous here, but we’ve noted their virtual disappearance, oh, five or six years ago. When I see one or two on a walk, it is always something I note and tell Brigitte about. Maybe they’re coming back. We like crows…

We do have a few ravens in America as well. Therefore my inclusion of a raven, one with a broken wing, into Ghulf Genes (the novel) was at least technically sound—although, to tell you the truth, appearing as it did in Pennsylvania, it was a very, very great distance from where it normally flies, feeds, breeds, and nests—in Alaska, Washington, and Oregon.