1– Death of a Friend
He was a large bird and the Alpha of the local family that I had befriended a few years earlier. While the smaller family members would dash in and out hoping for favor, he would confidently walk up within a few feet and stare at me with the knowledge that I would find something for him to eat. I had named him “The Other”.
I hadn’t seen him for a while but on this day as I was working in the yard he appeared out of nowhere and walked up very close to me. Closer than normal. None of the other family members were around, which was odd. I went into the garage to get the piece of bread I had been saving for him and when I did, I had to step over him as he didn’t move. Very odd. I sat on the porch and he walked up and stood between my feet. That was much closer than ever before. As I dropped pieces of bread it was clear that he was locating them by smell and sound. My friend had lost his sight.
My neighbor and long-time friend, Daniel, came over to chat and was surprised to see the crow at my feet. “What’s up with that?” he asked. I told him what I thought was going on but hoped I was wrong.
The Other stayed close to me as I continued to work and followed me around the yard. I guess he felt safe. Then he went about five feet into the garage, which I had never seen him do before, and sat facing out. His entire family suddenly showed up and watched from the fence that abuts the garage, One by one they flew down to sit with him one last time and when done each bird flew across the street and sat silently on the power line. When the last bird’s visit was over, they all took flight and flew north. No calling, just the sound of their wings and they were gone. He walked out of the garage and awkwardly hopped up onto the porch, something else I had never seen him do before, and sat very close beside me.
Eventually he hopped down and walked over to the lilac bush and sat in the grass. I took him some water and a few small treats which he picked at.
2 – Friends
Our relationship began when I was looking for a way to stop Crows from pooping on my car. Shooing them away only resulted in a return and deposit. I read that someone had learned that if you treated them well and fed them they would move to another car to bless with their gifts. I tried it and it worked.
The local Crow family was comprised of between 13 to 17 members and their territory extended a few blocks east to Paramount Park and about a block north to 152nd. They took to following me when I walked Koda and I trained some of them that if they flew past my shoulder, executed a 180 degree turn and landed in front of me they would get a treat. The rest of the family would follow. There were three large birds that were the bravest, learned quickly and were clearly in charge. I called them “Six”, “Spot” and “The Other”.
Six was named for a large, errant feather that extended down below his body. It was always out of place and made him clearly identifiable. He reminded me of a hang gliding acquaintance from Spokane who had lost four fingers on one hand and went by that moniker. My Sky Bro’s from the 70’s will remember “Six Finger” or simply “Six”. Six was the first Crow to “friend” me.
Spot had several white markings on the undersides of his wings that only showed when he flared to land or needed to pull on full flaps for one reason or another. He was a good guy. A solid dude. I really liked Spot.
The Other was solid black, handsome and had no outstanding features that I could detect. I identified him by his size, how the rest of the family deferred to him and his overall demeanor.
These three crows seemed to share leadership in the family. They would often call the whole family over when they saw me with food but sometimes just the three of them would show up. At other times one of them would come in the company of another, younger bird that they seemed to be mentoring. Spot, Six and The Other were much more trusting than the other family members and would approach within 3 feet. If I tried to get closer, they would back away. Three feet was fine with me.
Another crow family occupied the territory that started a block north at 152nd and they seldom came south to our house. When they did, they were roughly escorted back north by my friends. My family would follow me north up the street performing for treats but wouldn’t cross the intersection into the North Set’s Hood. Six, Spot and The Other believed that a man had to have a code and they lived by one.
As time went by Spot disappeared and the northern border shifted a bit south. Everything else remained pretty much the same. The lines were just redrawn and the North Set’s incursions increased but they were still escorted back home.
When Six disappeared, there was a more palpable shift of power and the territorial border moved south to some trees just 50 – 60 yards north of our intersection. My family was still in charge of the corners but their numbers were now down to 8 while the North Set’s were on the rise.
3 – Shifting of Power
With the northern border redrawn again I began to see more of the North Set. None of them messed with The Other but I didn’t see a clear successor to his throne emerging in spite of the mentoring his timid young protégé was receiving. While The Other still performed for treats and ruled the family his mentee, whom I named “Youngblood”, showed no signs of developing leadership skills. My Family’s status, while not in free fall, was at risk.
Crows have priorities so when you don’t see one for a while it isn’t unusual but when Six stopped coming to see me, I became anxious. I always watched for him and The Other on walks and kept a special treat in my pocket that was reserved just for him. After weeks of absence I was ready to acknowledge his departure and give it to The Other but it was spoiled and hard and not suitable for feeding to a friend so I gave it to the North Set while on a walk. They squabbled and squawked and tried to break it up in the street………..Unclean masses. Sad to see.
Being chosen to be the one The Other spent his last hours with was a sad gift. When his family flew off without a sound, I didn’t understand what it meant. When they were gone and The Other wandered out under the Lilac bush to die I knew that I was saying goodbye to a friend. I didn’t know whether to follow him or let him go. I decided that he was following the process of natural death for a crow and that he had said his goodbye to me. It was time to let him go.
It must have been a disappointment to him to know that when his family all flew away Youngblood wasn’t up to the task of leading and that with his passing their territory was being ceded to the North Set.
4 – Shunned / The Coup
At the conclusion of the deathbed visit when The Other’s family silently flew away I was saddened but didn’t expect what would come next. I didn’t anticipate that they would associate me with his death and shun me. At that very moment I had become a persona non grata. They still came and sat on the wires across the street awaiting food but wouldn’t approach the house no matter what I put out for them until I left. When I took Koda for a walk they no longer gleefully followed along as they had before. They hung back scolding and took to diving on us, often making contact with their wings and feet. They would dive in from behind as we walked up the street only pulling away abruptly if I turned to face them. Neighbors who had watched our companionship with the crows grow over the years asked “WTF?” The harassment carried on for blocks into the North Set’s territory.
Unfortunately, Youngblood, had no previous qualifying experience and withered under the pressure. Without effective leadership my one-time friends were pressured out or assimilated into the North Set who took possession of the wires and the roof of the house across the street. Word of The Other’s fate had clearly reached Fox News and the North Set who were now influencing a very large territory.
It was a bad time as the North Set was a rag tag and under-talented bunch, at best, with no discernable code or clear leadership. A coup d’etat was underway. A usurper was poised in the wings.
5 – Sip, Dip and Hammer Pants
Three clear candidates for leadership emerged. “Sip”, “Dip” and “Hammer Pants”. Sip and Dip were both O.G.C.’s (Original Gangster Crows) from The Other’s family while Hammer Pants was the only member of the North Set who seemed to care about power. He set out to seize control of this new territory.
Sip and Dip were willing to settle into an uneasy truce with me as they knew I would provide food but a deep trust had clearly been shattered and they would come only so close. They were intelligent and powerful birds but not into drama. In spite of their easy-going disposition they protected their family.
Hammer Pants, though, was a hard case and a total chicken-shit. He seemed to be only about himself. He puffed up his head feathers and leg feathers to strut around doing his best Mussolini impersonation. His attempts to control the population were obvious and pathetic. He would streak in to block the general population from obtaining food and bully them away in order to have it for himself. He wouldn’t look me in the eye and got really jumpy if I moved at all. His base, the North Set, was accustomed to his strongman routine and went along with him. Sip and Dip didn’t buy his act, though, and when they showed up he would flee. Such a powerful leader.
He took ownership of the tall tree kitty-corner from our lot which was originally part of The Others territory. From his perch he watched and whenever I came out of the house and crows carefully approached for food he would dive down and shoo them off.
What a piece of shit.
6 – Hall Pass Revoked
Every evening thousands of North End Crows migrate towards the University of Washington Bothell Campus to roost for the night. Each evening, at the appointed time, they fill the sky with their voices and all fly to the east. In the morning they return to the west though they are not as vocal. A handful of Crows stay behind and don’t make the trip. They stay in the nesting trees to maintain their claim, I guess.
The Bothell Commute
The Bothell Commute
These “Stay-Behinders”, regardless of their set, had been happy to see us on our evening walks and took handouts without having to compete with the whole population. After the passing of The Other they started scolding me and kept their distance but still took treats. The Stay-Behinders would seldom strike me and it seemed that I had been issued a hall pass of sorts. They let me know that I wasn’t welcome but quickly connected the level of threat with the number of treats I gave them.
It is customary for Crows to be very territorial when babies are in the nests. During May and June they all become Stay-Behinders fiercely guarding their offspring. Any and all people walking through their territory may be challenged and my hall pass was revoked. Carrying the stigma of being a dangerous threat seemed to double their aggression and I was struck most every night during that first Summer.
7 – Hearts and Minds
Researchers have found that Crows remember and associate faces with experiences, both good and bad, for at least five years. Further, they pass along their experiences to other Crows. I figured that since I had been an ally for years before The Other died they would cut me some slack. The good times would overshadow the bad times, right? Adult Crows had been bringing their fledglings to me for years as part of their life lessons and I thought that we would all fall back into that pattern.
Once the eggs hatched and the babies fledged, though, they were brought around to score food but there was no trust. Every Crow in Shoreline had been informed of my perceived misdeeds so no matter where I walked, I was scolded and dived on. The fledglings were particularly jumpy around me. Fledgling Crows, unlike their parents, are dumb as sticks. They can’t even scold right. I was used to watching them bumble through their first year of life’s lessons but this generation was seriously tweaked and I had something to do with it.
Also, “Il Duce Hammer Pants”, would puff up his head and fan his leggings while strutting back and forth spewing more bullshit about me than Fox News’ reporting on BLM Protesters. Any adults that got out of line were soundly “bounced” and chastised. I was hoping to receive parole or a new trial but all I got was Hammer Pants’ rhetoric and lies. I was about as popular as Barack Obama at a Trump rally. I think I mentioned what a piece of shit Hammer Pants was?
Did you ever have an uncle who was different and would infrequently come to visit? Someone who would give you rolls of pennies or Lifesavers or Black Jack Gum? Someone who your Folks would watch carefully so that, while enjoying his attention, his wacky company and his treats, you knew he wasn’t quite like you? Probably harmless, but pay attention?
Well, I was that uncle, I suppose. A little scary at first but worth being a friend to for any Crow who liked peanuts and meaty dog treats.
Until I wasn’t.
Even after the nests no longer needed guarding, they continued to harass us during our walks. I figured that I would just keep doing what I enjoyed doing and maybe they would let up. After all, we weren’t being physically damaged. Only disrespected. Nothing new, just disappointment.
Worst case was that I would have to wait another year until another generation of Crows came onto the scene. In the meantime, I would wage a campaign to win hearts and minds.
8 – New Faces
A little over a year had passed since The Other died and during that time I’d been a persona non grata in the local crow community. They weren’t pooping on my car or stealing my wiper blades but they weren’t coming around like they once had. I found solace in the fact that they weren’t vandalizing my stuff and hoped that my sentence was nearing an end.
Any potential reconciliation activities attended by Set members were quickly quashed by Hammer Pants who watched from his treetop and would dive down to break things up. He had most of the Crows held in check but it looked like some of them were tiring of his actions plus there were some outliers who weren’t sure who to believe.
Baby Crows would be out soon and I planned to win them over. By mid-June their reedy voices were heard from all of the neighborhood nests announcing that the time I had waited for had arrived.
Members of the Set started cautiously coming around but maintained their distance. Whether it was fear of me or fear of Hammer Pants (or both) I couldn’t tell for sure. Imagine my surprise, though, when Hammer Pants showed up in the company of a baby and an adult. His adult companion was a bit smaller and very timid. I assumed that “she” was his mate but I couldn’t imagine who would have him for life? Their baby was normal in appearance with the smallish looking head and skinny neck typical of youth. But Hammer Pants wasn’t there to eat or teach. He was there to control his followers.
Aside from Hammer Pants’ new family there were a few other new faces who showed up. They would come to be known as “Twofer”, “Walker” and “Beak”.
9 – Beak
The Class of 2016/2017 mostly disappointed me as far as making inroads with the North Set. The fledglings were not overly open to me and the yearlings were still kept in check by Hammer Pants. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part but I felt like I could see some cracks forming in his wall of tyranny as adults from the North Set were starting to come and sit on the fence when they thought they could get away with it. Nobody was really stepping up to be my friend but they seemed to be warming a bit. They were on the fence now as they hadn’t been since the passing of my friend.
Hammer Pants was clearly the alpha-male and would puff up and strut about but if I looked him in the eye he would falter. If I told him go fuck himself, he would retract his head and leg feathers and get really jumpy as he looked for a place to hide. He was a legend in his own mind and nothing more.
He was grooming his off-spring, Little Hammer Pants to be his successor and when I saw that little shit puff up his head feathers and strut like his Dad I told the rest of the fence-sitters to kick his ass. They totally weren’t buying into his act and mostly ignored him. He got to where he wouldn’t practice his routine if I was around because I had told him to take his weak-ass shit elsewhere.
Beak showed up around that time and quickly became a favorite of mine. He had a deformed beak that I learned was called “Avian Keratin Disorder”. It resulted in the upper part of his beak being about ½ as long as it should be and his lower part curling up at the end. That created some problems for him.
The first thing I noticed was that he was treated as an outcast, chased and harassed by the general population. If crows were on the fence, he would sit way off to one side so as not to get beat up by the rest of the family. He was always either alone or was getting his ass kicked. He was a Stay-Behinder and never flew east to roost with the rest of the set.
Having his beak shaped as is was made it nearly impossible for him to compete for food. After a rain when the worms were on the surface and easy pickings, he couldn’t get them up into his beak without a struggle so his diet was limited. Any food that he picked up off the ground required him to turn his head completely sideways which took away half of his field of vision. In the meantime, his competitors could quickly take whatever he was hoping to eat away from him. Since he didn’t have a sharp beak his primary defensive weapon was eliminated and he would get bounced for good measure.
While Beak wasn’t in a place where he felt he could trust me, he and I developed a routine that allowed him to eat. I would toss peanuts into one area to draw the rest of the crows away and then toss him something way off to the side that would give him time to grab it and fly to a safe place to consume it. If he stayed near our house to eat it, he would be mobbed by bullies who would take his lunch money.
Beak
Like I say, he wasn’t in a place where he really trusted me but he totally picked up on and bought into the feeding routine. I was doing my best to see that he had enough to eat and he recognized me as a food source but nothing more. Life was still tough for him as it seemed like one of the first lessons that the fledglings learned after how to feed themselves was how to pick on Beak.
It was like their families were telling them: “See that guy over there? He is bad and you need to drive him away”.
I have to tell you that it was hard to watch that and I questioned if I was humanizing Beak and his situation by feeding him while the general population wanted him gone. Was the deformity that connected the two of us viewed as a threat to the gene pool of the American Crows who’s imperative was to protect the “herd”? Was my charity threatening their long-term survival?
10 – The South Set
The North Set seemed content with the location of their southern boundary. They had no reason to push it further since it included our fence. The “South Set” occupied the trees south of our property and may have been part of The Other’s family before his death. I don’t know for sure. Some of that Family had joined the North Set but they mostly seemed content to stay south of the fence. Any time a “Southerner” came around, though, Hammer Pants would puff up and pitch a fit commanding his “Northerners” to mob them and chase them back home. The sight of Hammer Pants and Little Hammer Pants strutting about in a rage fomenting hatred against the Southerners and keeping their Set in line was comical yet angered me because I felt like they stood between me and the sort of relationships I was trying to forge.
I didn’t want to threaten them overtly lest they start the clock over on my five year ban so I would just stare at them which makes untrusting crows very uncomfortable. Also, I started telling all crows within earshot about the unfortunate circumstances of the Fascist Duo’s’ hatchings. Something to the affect that their Mother’s had slept with Pigeons which is one of the worst insults you can level in all of the avian kingdom. Pigeons are the lowest caste among all birds and suggesting that a Crow has Pigeon blood coursing through its veins is a low blow.
Pigeons can’t even fly well. Look at the dihedral of their wings. Throughout the history of aviation excessive dihedral is associated with poor flight characteristics and low performance. If a bird sucks at flight what good is it?
Two Southerners were coming around now who weren’t impressed by the King of the North. They ignored the hateful rhetoric and histrionics of the fascist duo and made it clear to the North Set that they wouldn’t be rushed back home and only crossed back into their own territory at their leisure. My kind of Crows. Both kept a respectful distance from me but were willing to look me in the eye which seemed hopeful. I called them Two-fer and Walker for certain characteristics they exhibited.
Most Crows would dart in to grab a peanut or dog treat from the top of a fence post and then dash away to safety. Two-fer would land on the feeding post and wait for me. Once he caught my eye he would hop over a post so that I could put something out and then take it, hop back and wait for another and another. He never left without at least two items, hence the name Two-fer. Walker would also keep taking as long as I was giving but his trick was to walk back and forth across the top of the gate taking treats from one side and then the other until he couldn’t hold any more.
Two-fer wouldn’t walk the gate and Walker wouldn’t hop from post to post, waiting and then taking treats. When they left for their tree southeast of us they flew without a care in spite of the squadron of fascist sycophants that chased them back as if they actually held the upper hand.
11 – Borders, Neutral Zone and Whacking
The class of 2017 – 2018 brought some promise of reconciliation. Hammer Pants still held reign over the North Set and “owned” premier property kitty-corner from our house. The tall tree featured a good perch for him to overlook “his” territory. Walker and Two-fer had become regulars and some of their “South-Side Friends” (SSF) were also coming around. This created some drama as the Fascist Duo bitched and moaned about the perceived trespass and the SSF, as far as I could tell were normal Crows who were easily intimidated by the North Set. The North Set owned the north fence and the South Set owned the south fence. Our 55’ x 40’ back yard seemed to have turned into a sort of neutral zone.
The South Fence
Both Sets brought their fledglings to the back yard and as long as nobody landed on the wrong fence things were fine. Baby Crows, though, are not the brightest creatures and landing on any fence at all can be quite an adventure. They don’t come out of the nest with an instinct for landing into the wind or knowing about lee turbulence so watching them pile in downwind on a blustery day is entertaining. Watching them pull off a sketchy landing on the wrong fence is something else.
The North Fence
I can just imagine a young Crow coming in to land on a fence and going through its marginal landing checklist that is severely limited by personal experience. Having flown beak-first into the fence while unwittingly coming in downwind the youngster picked itself up and tries coming in slower on an upwind approach. Through the budding Ace’s eyes, the approach seems good but is too low and the rotor in the lee of the fence smacks it down hard and forces a go-around. Third time being the charm it is coming in higher now avoiding the rotor with a steeper upwind approach, flaps down, got it wired and settling down nicely towards the fence. New data are being recorded and compared with the existing knowledge data base, each feather reacting to internal commands and external input. Every sensory experience compiling what works and what doesn’t work when landing on a fence. Finally, wind in its face, it settles perfectly onto the fence top.
Almost before it can record the data and congratulate itself it is struck from behind and knocked off the fence by another Crow. Gathering its wits, it hears a chorus of Other-Set Crows screaming in unison, “WHACK”!!!
It landed on the wrong fence.
12 – Jean and Beak
Jean had been making fun of my obsession with Crows for years but once I told her about Beak and his life as a physically challenged outcast she was touched and started asking about him. I told her which tree he lived in and she began to watch for him on her morning walks with Koda.
At first, the Crows didn’t identify her as a potential food source but they knew Koda and remembered getting some of his treats when I walked him. They loved “Zukes Treats”. I was scary but Koda wasn’t so they started watching Jean and when she began to toss them treats on her way north they would follow her to their Northern boundary and meet her on her way back south.
Beak started following her, too, and she witnessed how he was disadvantaged and how he was often mobbed when he tried too hard. Beak knew the routine before Jean did and among her multitude of fine characteristics is her ability to learn more quickly than most from a multitude or sources. Though she had heard me describe how Beak and I did it she didn’t need to know the details until Beak required it. When the time came it was Beak who taught Jean how it worked.
Beak’s trips south to the fence with the rest of the Set dropped off as it had become a whipping post for him. If he could find something to eat during the day and depend on Jean to help him out during the morning and on our evening walks, he would make do. And he did.
If Beak was busy when Jean passed he would show up when she called his name in this high-pitched call that I can’t even make. Of course, all of the Crows took to Jean and quite a number would accompany her. The neighbors noticed and found humor in the “Crow Lady” and her flock. Beak and Jean worked their routine and refined it to a science. Everyone was pretty happy except for Hammer Pants and Little Hammer Pants who we both tried to avoid feeding. Screw those guys, right?
We were very surprised and pleased when Beak took a mate. Maybe the only Crow that would have him but a fine-looking bird that we named “Buddy” took up residence with him and accompanied him to the morning and evening feedings. They appeared to be inseparable.
13 – Refugees
The 2018 – 2019 construction of the light rail line running a block to the west had some significant impacts on the local environment. One of the first steps in the project was clearing the area where the light rail station would be built. That included taking out one block of houses and the medium-sized park and ride lot where numerous 50 – 60 year old Fir trees grew that provided habitat for birds. While local code requirements mandate that I pay to plant new trees for every tree I may want to remove, trees within right-of-ways are exempt and even if a tree is replaced it isn’t ready for occupation for at least a decade.
With their generational homes destroyed many birds became homeless and a population of Crows cast about looking for a place to re-establish their lives. I don’t know if it is easy for refugees to incorporate into pre-existing territories but a good-sized population of birds moved east into both the North and South Set’s trees. Might have been my imagination but it seemed that their fledgling’s development was slowed and somewhat disjointed by the uprooting.
The move into the South’s hood was fairly graceful but Hammer Pants wasn’t wild about them coming North as the refugees already had their own ideas about leadership and viewed him as a daft prick. He and his immediate family still controlled the tree kitty-corner from our place plus the roof of the house just north of us. His control of the north fence was slipping, though. Many of the original North Set still cow-towed to his demands but among the refugees only yearlings and fledges feared him, but as I said, it seemed a particularly tough time to be a young bird. Two of these birds, "Cheeky" and "Shy", showed promise of becoming friends.
Shy is a sweet compact crow who integrated into the North but didn’t compete well and would quickly get out of any other crow’s way if he stood between them and food. He seemed timid and not at all confident so any reactions regarding food other than to let someone else have it were slowed by indecision. After a while, though, I noticed that he was standing near the front of our car which blocked him from the view of the other crows. He would stand facing me with his head bowed, rocking side to side by changing from one foot to the other. If I wasn’t taking notice of him he would chuff at me but not too loudly so as not to alert the rest of the crows.
Totally endearing behavior and we could keep this up for quite a while until another crow got wind of it and crashed the party. This is a strategy that Shy taught me.
Cheeky came to the South as a refugee and is, well, cheeky. He gets bounced a lot for showing up where others feel he doesn’t belong but he looked me in the eye from the very start and has never been in a hurry to leave unless someone is bearing down on him. He lands on the deck railing and looks in the kitchen until I see him and then steps back from the window to allow me room to set a peanut out. He takes it and just stands there looking at me until he has to leave in a hurry.
When he does have to leave it is always quite a show because one or more crows are trying to knock him out of the sky but that dude can fly. Watching him evade bogeys is like watching Star Wars X-Wings and TIE Fighters dogfighting. I get a headache just watching Cheeky pulling those G’s with his evasive maneuvers.
Cheeky is one hell of a pilot.
14 – The Green Mile
August 1, 2019 was a typical warm Summer day and I was sitting on our north-facing porch sipping a cold IPA while planning my post-retirement explorations. Across the street a large Laurel hedge sits atop a low berm that marks the border of our neighbor’s property. Between the street and the hedge is a sunbaked, weed-covered slope. The western end of that slope was “owned” by Hammer Pants. Northern Set members were allowed to occupy the eastern end without harassment but if they drifted too far west Hammer Pants and Little Hammer Pants would drive them off.
The Green Mile
Hammer Pants and Little Hammer Pants sat on the slope with wings spread against the ground like they were sunbathing which is a normal behavior for birds and Little Hammer Pants always mimicked whatever his Dad did so to see them both there didn’t seem out of the norm. Sort of a nice Marlin Perkins moment in spite of my dislike for them both.
I was savoring the cold, crisp citrus notes of my Fremont Lush IPA when I noticed that Hammer Pants wasn’t looking quite right. His wings were not really spread evenly and they looked like maybe they weren’t working correctly. His head was a bit off to one side and he was moving in an odd way. Little Hammer Pants did his best to imitate his Dad but one of them was clearly well and the other was clearly not. The Missus flew down from the corner tree and the three sat together on the slope. Hammer Pants appeared to be panting and near collapse. finally, gathering his remaining strength he struggled alone the last foot up the berm to complete his Green Mile. He disappeared under the Laurel Hedge and was no more.
I had seen this walk four years earlier with The Other and I hoped that I would never see it again but there it was. “Shit”. Not how I wanted to spend my first afternoon of retirement. That called for another beer.
Little Hammer Pants and his Mom sat in silence. No other crows attended the service.
I made sure to stay away and watch from across the street as I had worked for four years to shed my stigma as a crow killer and I had no intention of giving it all up for that bastard, Ill Duce. Still, I was touched by the ceremony of his death and saddened by the obvious loss suffered by Little Hammer Pants and his Mom.
What would change bring?
15 – Detente
As far as I could tell Little Hammer Pants and his Mom didn’t come around for some time. I may be wrong because I never could pick her out of a crowd and only recognized her by the company she kept. Little Hammer Pants is a very normal looking Crow when he isn’t all puffed up trying to impress and since nobody was exercising their territorial imperative on the roof across the street or strutting I don’t know if he came around or not. I would see them both sitting quietly at the top of their tree but nothing more.
Their absence freed things up some things for both North and South Sets and they started to establish some new, more civil behaviors. There were fewer squabbles over who sat on who’s fence and the back yard seemed a freer free-zone than before, however, as my first post-retirement project I rebuilt the north fence and this hung them up. That new section of fencing was a change in their routine so they all started showing a preference for the south fence. The South Set, being more inclusive, allowed this and would only bounce a Northerner from their fence occasionally.
Shy showed up every day to perform his dance routine as did Walker and Two-fer. For whatever reason, Cheeky was still hazed regularly but I started to think that maybe he liked it because the chase gave him the opportunity to display his superior flying skills. I was really looking forward to see what the Fledglings of 2020 would turn out like and also full of hope that with Hammer Pants gone Crows would quit talking smack about me.
Around mid-April the evening migration to Bothell ceased signaling that nest preparations were underway. All Crows became Stay-Behinders and would remain so until the eggs hatched and the babies could leave the nest starting sometime around mid-June. In the meantime, they would fiercely guard their nests and care for their brood. Pity the Eagle or Hawk who stopped by looking for an easy snack as they would almost certainly be driven from the area with an empty stomach and missing a few feathers.
16 – Cheeky
Some birds clearly enjoy their gift of flight more than others. Crows love to fly and I believe that they view themselves as blessed that they can do it for “work” and when they get off work they can do it for fun. Their flight is imaginative and you see them do maneuvers that aren’t necessary but clearly enjoyable. Their personalities are reflected in their flight.
For Ducks, Pigeons and most other birds it is all work and no play which makes them a pretty dull bunch. Sure, they can fly but it isn’t something that they dream about at night. It is something that they mindlessly do to get through another day. Watch them sometime. Not much going on upstairs and it is safe to say that none of them are going to be splitting the atom.
Cheeky, on the other hand, loves flight more than life itself and takes it to a whole different level. The stuff he does reflects an intellect and appreciation for his gift that astounds me. He works on skills development which may have started as a survival mechanism after being beaten up one too any times but continues today for what I interpret as a way to further frustrate his detractors or maybe it is a need feel the controlled build up of G-forces that pushes his body tissues out of place, flexes his airfoil to the edge and makes him want to pass out.
As far as G's go pilots of all disciplines and species sort of fall into 3 category types.
- Type 1 - Are those pilots who try to avoid maneuvers that generate more than 1-2 G's.
- Type 2 - Are those who accept that real flight will generate additional G-forces but try not to do anything that scares them too much, makes them wet their pants or cry like a baby.
- Type 3 - This is a small contingent of flyers who seek to control their flight so that they can live on that sharp edge of weightlessness countered by G-forces that empty their lungs and creates strange noises in their equipment.
Cheeky is clearly a Type 3 pilot. I just wish he would come around for a chat every day but I fear that his penchant for flying fast and tight keeps him busy and may shorten his time on earth.
Recently he has been mentoring a younger Crow (Wingman) who is learning the basics of flight on the edge.
- Flying faster than necessary is a given.
- Flying close and tight around hard objects is required.
- Adding signature flair to every flight path and always, always, always throwing in some discretionary move that is not necessary for getting from A-to-B like a tight 360 below the fence line just before setting down with authority.
A few days ago I was out on the deck tossing peanuts to the crows in the yard when suddenly Cheeky roared past my right shoulder from behind, missing me by a wingspan. Wingman was right behind him but about 6 feet away. They rounded out just inches above the garage roof then dove over the edge towards the ground, scattering the yard Crows, pulled up hard while banking left and zoomed up over the fence to the north. Clearing the fence, they slowed and loped away together back towards Cheeky’s tree. What the heck?
About 15 minutes later everything was back to normal and they made a second pass, closer this time. Same basic path over the garage, dive off the edge, pull up, bank and over the fence, again scattering the yard Crows. It is quite something to hear the flow of air over his left wing that passed just inches from my ear. The first time I was thinking that Cheeky was just saying “Hello” to me and I felt pretty cool about myself but the second time made me think that the “scattering” was what they were going for and that I was just one more immovable object for them to dodge or to scatter.
Here is a video of their second pass:
17 – Fledglings Learn to Swear
By now you have been hearing those reedy little voices of the Class of 2020. A couple of notes too high and very insistent. At this point their needs are as simple as their vocabulary which consists of “FEED ME”! They do make this other noise that I’ll get to in a minute.
Most baby birds are not as vociferous as the American Crow. They may make some sounds but it ain’t much. Think about baby Ducks, Geese, Chickens, Robins, Hummingbirds or Pigeons (Rats With Wings). Their little peeks and squeaks are pretty pathetic. You have to be pretty close to them to hear any noises they are making but a baby Crow you can hear from a distance. They express themselves for any living creature within a city block to hear.
Once they fledge (leave the nest) these baby Crows still don’t have any more words but they wish they did because they have plenty to say. Every day is a new day, every action is fraught with drama and there are monsters everywhere. Watch their flight. Total chaos but I can relate.
When you foot launch for the first time there is nothing in life that has prepared you for the experience and when you find yourself off the ground and figuring it out there are a lot of four-letter words that go through your head and probably come out of your mouth that sort of make you sound like a baby crow. I mean, as humans we have a wide range of expletives to choose from when we are uncertain of what’s going to happen next. Most of them are single syllable and made up of four letters. There are few choice two syllable words that you will hear uttered by a human under stress but the point I’m making is that to the religious right they all sound the same.
Fledglings don’t have those choices. When they first commit to flight, I don’t believe that they are relaxed and in control. I think that they are under as much stress as I was when I flew for the first time. Finding myself off the ground I was able to control my anxiety by screaming numerous single syllable expletives and wrapping it all up with “Oh shit I’m gonna die!” Having such a refined vocabulary brought me such solace during that stressful time of early flight. Pity the poor fledgling Crow who finds himself descending at a rate that feels wrong and only being able to scream “FEEDME!” Think about it. What if you called 9-1-1 to report an intruder in your house and all you could say to the Operator was “FEEDME!” See what I mean? It ain’t easy to be a fledgling.
There is also that other noise that I said I would mention. It occurs when their cries to be fed are correctly interpreted as “Feed Me!” rather than “Oh shit! I’m gonna die!”. That noise is only made when they are actually being fed by a parent or caretaker. What is going on is that the parent is regurgitating food down the fledgling’s throat. If you wonder what this sounds like just consider the sound you would make if you held your mouth open and someone threw up down your throat.
That is the sound of a baby American Crow learning to say “Motherfucker”.
18 – Yellow Death
Many people find the crow’s voice annoying, and rightly so. It isn’t the voice of a sweet song bird, and instead, it reeks of attitude. Something you need to understand, though, is that before the movie “Pulp Fiction” came out baby crows just said “Gag” repeatedly when force-fed. I swear this is true.
The way “Gag” was changed to “Motherfucker” in the Crow language dates to 1994 when “Pulp Fiction” was being shown at a couple of drive-in theaters and some crows were hanging out on the roof of the concession stand waiting for someone to drop a french fry. Now, some researchers say that a Crow is as intelligent as a 7 year old human and any 7 year old boy is going to be fascinated watching “Pulp Fiction”. Any 7-year old watching that movie could connect that word with whatever bad thing that followed.
“Rick” and “Wendel” were semi-typical Stay-Behinders who hung out at a suburban Seattle drive-in movie concession stand because they rebelled against the role forced upon them by their set and the food was good. I call them semi-typical because they should have been guarding a nest but they had become film buffs. If they could watch a movie, kype some food and get back home before they were missed it was worth the risk. Between people dropping food there was time to watch the movies and the roof of the concession stand gave them a great view of the screen but “Pulp Fiction” confused them. Samuel L. Jackson (Jules) said that word 26 times and each time it was accompanied by what looked like tension or something unpleasant happening. In spite of not understanding what it meant they were quietly practicing saying the word because they were sure it was important.
When a couple of guys came stumbling out drunk in their high school letterman jackets and one of them dropped a whole tray of french fries Rick and Wendel shifted their attention from Pulp Fiction to the loud, cursing lettermen and their prize. As the lettermen exchanged insults and stumbled back their car Rick and Wendel dove on those fries like any 7-year old would dive on an unclaimed box of Lemon Heads. What they didn’t know was that not only were those lettermen bad athletes undeserving of those jackets but they had terrible taste and had covered their fries in French’s mustard. As soon as those “Yellow Death” tainted fries passed their beaks, they both searched for a way to express their anger and disappointment while disguising the sound of their regurgitation in the same way you or I would.
Now the sound of a baby crow repeatedly screaming “Gag!” while having someone puke down their throats and a baby crow screaming something else may not sound much different to your human ear but Rick and Wendel took their lesson back to the rest of the Stay-Behinders that night and it has been passed down for generations. To this day the sound of a baby crow having its throat puked down mimics the sound of Jules in Pulp Fiction.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
19 – Third Grade
Fledgling Crows seem exceeding stupid. They bumble through all of life’s early lessons and watching them makes me just shake my head. Their flight is frenzied and awkward. They wander through the sky in an apparent fog of anxiety and confusion, flapping wildly while screaming “FeedMe”. It is as if they don’t trust this gift of flight that is their birthright and fear that it could be taken away at any moment so they flap and flap and flap screaming the only word they know that isn’t associated with vomit.
Imagine what it is like when they finally let go and glide for the first time. Do they do it out of exhaustion or because they see their mentors doing it? Whatever the reason it is at that moment that they experience their first real flight and feel wind flowing over and under their wings, high pressure building below and low pressure building above the flow. When they slow down and hear their passage through space and feel the texture of the air they begin to see the possibilities. That calls for another word, their 3rd, which is “FarOut”.
I’ve decided that the reason baby Crows seem so stupid is because we know they will get to be really smart. Here’s what I mean:
We know that adult Crows are very smart. Compare that to an adult Pigeon or some-such bird that may develop intellectually to the level of a Garden Slug. If the researchers are anywhere close to right then a baby Crow cracks the egg as disadvantaged as the baby Pigeon but has a lot of learning ahead of it while the Pigeon has all it’s ever going to have before its feathers are dry.
We don’t expect much out of other bird species but we get to watch the Crows on their learning journey and expect more so we watch their mistakes and see them learn. The intellectual bar for most birds is so low because little development takes place. There is nothing to watch. The fledgling crow, on the other hand, develops intellectually to be on par with a 7 year old human over the course of a year. That is a lot of development that we can see before our eyes.
Watching them go from waiting to be fed to picking up food on their own is remarkable. Because the “FeedMe” thing is working for them, they haven’t figured out that if they eat something for themselves, they won’t have to endure puke down their throats. They watch the older crows pick up food and eat it so they pick it up but drop it because that isn’t how they know to eat. Instead, they hop from one peanut to the next, picking them up and dropping them while an older bird follows and picks up behind them.
I celebrated my 8th birthday while I was in the third grade and I got an “A” for my efforts. That baby crow is going to be almost as smart as I was in 1957 but what took me 8 years to achieve that Crow is expected to pull off in about a year and a half. We expect them to do in weeks or maybe months what it took us years to figure out. Our expectations are too high so they look stupid but we just need to be patient.
I did see something last week that made me laugh. Six or seven crows were hanging out on the north fence and one of the fledglings was showing off and dancing around to impress everyone when slipped off and got his head stuck between two cedar pickets and the top rail. He was shouting something that I didn’t understand while struggling to get unstuck. Not even sure if he had a word for it. I was hoping that he would be able to free himself because I didn’t want to help him and end up being associated with the event. It took him about 10 seconds of flapping and clawing to get his head out.
What a dumbass. I wonder what lesson he took from the experience. It must have been terribly embarrassing and if he does it again I wonder if his Set will brand him as a “Stay-Behinder”.
20 – End of a Dynasty
Changing demographics and Little Hammer Pants’ inability to inspire and lead had been chipping away at his power. Like his Father, he tried to lead through intimidation but he really didn’t have whatever it took to be the kind of asshole his Dad was. It was all his Father had ever taught him, though, and you could see that the skillset just didn’t quite settle. He never really had a base to fall back on which was evident when he and his Mom were the only Crows attending his Dad’s funeral.
The period of détente and the integration of the refugees into the area established that a “strongman” personality was not needed nor welcomed. The ownership of my fences seems to have fallen away and while preferences are still apparent, they are not the cause of friction. Cheeky still gets chased away but I think that’s part of his game. He views himself as an outlaw.
The end of the Hammer Pants Dynasty is obvious in the variety of crows that now perch on the house across the street. Recall that during the reign of the dynasty it was reserved for the royal family and anyone else who landed there would be roughly removed. Little Hammer Pants and his Mom have retained the ownership of their tree (for now) but the neighbor’s roof has become a free zone. Little Hammer Pants is just another member of the set now. Every so often I see him puff up and start to strut but I think it’s just force of habit and he straightens right up when he sees me scowling at him.
There seems to be little change in the status of the Stay-Behinders, at least when it comes to competing for resources. They are still treated unequally by all and have to work harder and show more imagination in order to procure the same amount of food.
Systemic change is difficult.
21 – End of a Dynasty Redux
With sincere apologies to the family, friends, fans and admirers of Townes Van Zandt
Livin’ in a tree my friend
Should have kept you free and fat
Soaring with your buddies, black
Scolding every backyard cat
Should have kept you free and fat
Soaring with your buddies, black
Scolding every backyard cat
Your Momma she did write a song
About the boy that she raised wrong
The boy became a bully who
Never paid respect that’s due
About the boy that she raised wrong
The boy became a bully who
Never paid respect that’s due
She probably had regrets, no doubt
About that egg that she squeezed out
But it never stopped her from thinking it
Was time to ditch that little shit
About that egg that she squeezed out
But it never stopped her from thinking it
Was time to ditch that little shit
Members of the murder say
They could have kicked his ass any day
They only let him stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
They could have kicked his ass any day
They only let him stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
As Hammer Pants a fascist grew
His gaze as sharp as polished steel
He wore his feathers all puffed out
For all the honest crows to feel
His gaze as sharp as polished steel
He wore his feathers all puffed out
For all the honest crows to feel
He claimed trees and skies that were not his
He goose-stepped back and forth
He took a tree from someone else
And named himself King of the North
He goose-stepped back and forth
He took a tree from someone else
And named himself King of the North
Members of the murder say
He was an asshole everyday
They only let him stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
Along the line he found a mate
And then the two were three
The baby though had something wrong
With his feathers and his gait
And then the two were three
The baby though had something wrong
With his feathers and his gait
His father’s influence was so profound
Little Hammer Pants would strut around
His head and leggings made so big
That murder members would renege
Little Hammer Pants would strut around
His head and leggings made so big
That murder members would renege
Members of the murder say
They could have had the tree any day
They only let them stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
They could have had the tree any day
They only let them stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
The family tree that numbered three
Was hated throughout the sky
Conversations with brothers black
Suggested they should die
Was hated throughout the sky
Conversations with brothers black
Suggested they should die
Ill Duce passed in August heat
Under the laurel across the street
The list of attendees was very short
The Missus and Little Hammer Pants complete
Under the laurel across the street
The list of attendees was very short
The Missus and Little Hammer Pants complete
Members of the murder say
They thought to off him everyday
They only let them stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
Little Hammer Pants comes around
Feathers puffed up large he struts still
The murder they think him a clown
I wonder if his belly's filled
The poets tell how Hammer Pants fell
And where Little Hammer Pants resides
In the basement belonging to his Mom
In the tree just outside.
And where Little Hammer Pants resides
In the basement belonging to his Mom
In the tree just outside.
Members of the murder say
They could take them any day
They only let them stay and stay
They could take them any day
They only let them stay and stay
Out of kindness I suppose
Members of the murder say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so long
Out of kindness I suppose
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so long
Out of kindness I suppose
Epilogue – At Seventeen
By mid-July the evening migration to the Bothell roost begins again as early developing fledglings allow for family travel. It begins slowly, though, as families with fledglings that aren’t yet ready for Prime Time stay at their nests and follow us on our evening walks. For the period of time when all of the Crows are Stay-Behinders, Jean and I look like Charlie Brown’s friend Pig-Pen surrounded by dust and flying bugs as we take our evening walk. Great entertainment for onlookers but maybe a horrifying sight that is the stuff of nightmares for children. By early to mid-August the evening migration is in full swing and our evening walks belong only to the outcasts once again.
The Stay-Behinders have a couple of obvious new members. “Glenn Plake” and “Scruff”. Glenn had some sort of accident in late-Winter that took most of the feathers from the top of his head. One wild strip of his scalp remained undamaged while the rest was down to skin. Remarkably, some feathers are growing back now with a greyish cast. They are still quite short, more of a fuzz than feather, and time will tell what the end result will be. He may have been a Stay-Behinder all along but just not identifiable to me as when he showed up he acted like he was familiar with us and the rules of the Outsiders. Or, it could be that he was a regular Set member but is now discriminated against because of his haircut?
After years of observing Crows I find myself identifying most closely with the Stay-Behinders who drift around the periphery of the Set trying to fit in and avoid trouble but somehow knowing that they never will. They are subjected to the abuse of even the fledglings, who are taught early that the Outsiders are not as good as they are and that they will tolerate being bullied. For any species, being excluded for how they look and dress, the color of their “feathers”, who they admire and who their friends are must be as painful for them as it is for the teenage girl who is shunned and mocked by her middle school classmates.
In 1975 Janis Ian released a song about being an Outsider that I dedicate to Beak and the rest of the Stay-Behinders.
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say "Come dance with me"
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand-me-downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, "Pity, please, the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve"
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, "Pity, please, the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve"
And the rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me
We all play the game, and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
They call and say, "Come dance with me"
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen