Crows don’t like anything they perceive as a threat. I’ve been woken up by a murder of crows harassing a raccoon, seen them chasing away bald eagles and pestering seagulls (usually for food). This morning as I walked in to work, I saw a large bird swoop between a couple of trees closely followed by two squawking crows.
As the bird flew nearer I saw it was a raven (Corvus corvax). The raven swooshed over my head with its noisy wing beats and headed for another tree.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that it was being chased by crows – the crows have made the city their domain – but, still, my first thought was `Huh, a crow chasing a crow’.
I like many birds, but several members of the crow family are among my favourite, thanks to their curiosity and sheer cheek. There is the raven that stalks you and your lunch on a cold day in the mountains; the pesky, mischievous and yet oh-so-innocent looking whisky jack (or grey jay) that snatches the chocolate from your hand when you’re not looking; and the beautiful blue Steller’s jay, always on the lookout for scraps.
Being. Outdoors. 