Crows
We live in Crowthorne, in Berkshire, UK. It is home to two well-known
institutions, Wellington College and Broadmoor Hospital. The former is a
fee-paying co-educational school for pupils from 13 to 18, which opened in 1859
as a national monument to honour the Duke of Wellington. The latter is a
maximum-security psychiatric hospital, one of three in England, and has housed
some of the most dangerous criminals in England. It opened in 1863. Is there a
sinister link between the two? (insert
wink emoji)
The Crowthorne badge, top left of the sign, shows a crow on a branch or thorn. The village is named after a local landmark, the Crow Thorn
There are many crows in the area, as might be deduced from the
name. These clever birds are noisy, bold and entertaining. They quickly
recognise food sources and follow dog walkers who carry treats.
Several years ago, we used to feed two crows we called Bill
and Beatrice, and subsequently their two offspring. They were opportunistic
feeders and would switch their allegiance readily from us to others. The ground
where we walked in Crowthorne Forest, more properly Swinley Forest, was open
and the family could easily see the biscuits.
There are many small ponds in the woods, very attractive to
dogs and ducks, and we used to throw biscuits in for the crows. It was amazing
to watch them dive down, almost submerge and then flap up and away with the
prize in their bill.
Simon’s Wood, where we walk at present, has thick layers of
leaves, rotting beautifully into a rich, aromatic mulch.
There is a fairly
large pool which hosts a variety of water birds – Canada geese, little grebes,
coot and mallard among others. The crows do not dive for biscuits here.
It is apparent that the crows have territories in which they are
comfortable, for when we reach the boundaries, invisible to us, they no longer
follow us. At present, we have another family of four to feed. They seem to
recognise us, or perhaps it’s the dogs, or the treat bags we carry. Maybe they
just watch to find out if they’re going to be lucky.
Crow 1:‘Oh, there’s a human. Let’s follow him for a while and
see if he’ll feed us.’
Crow 2: ‘Watch out for the dogs. They’ll steal our grub.’
Crow 1: ‘Children alert. They often drop food.’
Crow 2: ‘Look, more dogs. I wonder if they’ll have treats?’
One of the current family has a degree of leucism, only
clearly visible when she flies. Unoriginally, we call her White Wings. She can
easily be mistaken for a magpie from a distance.
We also have crows in the garden. A few years ago, when Jenna,
our little black Labrador, was very young, one of the crows used to sit atop one of the arches and bow to her. I think he must have been an immature male to have
mistaken a four-legged dog for a two-legged crow and start courting her. At
least, I think that was what he was doing. I’m not an expert and am willing to
be corrected.
Crows can be extremely vocal, particularly if they feel
threatened. A crow will chase away a red kite, even though a kite is
substantially larger than a crow.
Aesop was a Greek slave and story-teller who lived around 620 BCE. He recognised the intelligence of the crow and illustrated it in his fable of the Crow and the Pitcher.
Is this crow engaged in trickery or is he about to burst into song?
'Me and my shadow . . . '
