A crow perched on our roof, looking at me wearily.
A frequent sound around our house lately has been an intense banging on the roof. It honestly sounds like someone has climbed up there and decided to hammer away for fun.
Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I grabbed a ladder to investigate. When I reached the top, I discovered the source of the obnoxious noises: an aggressive crow trying to crack open a walnut. We have a flat roof, so apparently it’s a perfect landing spot / walnut abuse space for them. I made a few attempts to shoo it away, waving my hands wildly and making all sorts of strange noises. The crow looked unimpressed and returned to its task.
I figured a more creative approach was needed, so I turned to the garden hose. Thankfully, no neighbors were around to question why I was suddenly watering the roof. The water seemed to have worked, as the crow took flight, leaving behind its walnut. Victory!
Or maybe not. I recently read about how long crows hold a grudge.
From a NY Times article, “If You Think You Can Hold a Grudge, Consider the Crow“, published in October 2024:
Renowned for their intelligence, crows can mimic human speech, use tools and gather for what seem to be funeral rites when a member of their murder, as groups of crows are known, dies or is killed. They can identify and remember faces, even among large crowds.
They also tenaciously hold grudges. When a murder of crows singles out a person as dangerous, its wrath can be alarming, and can be passed along beyond an individual crow’s life span of up to a dozen or so years, creating multigenerational grudges.
Oh, cool! This must explain all the aggressive cawing I hear from the trees as I walk to kids to school each morning.
