our own backyards, spying on us from lampposts, stealing food from the dog, and shattering the early morning with their loud, steel-edged caws. If one species of crows routinely makes and uses tools—a behavior so remarkable that it was until recently thought to be uniquely human—then what might the rest of those swaggering, black-clad wise guys be up to?
CROWS OF THE WORLD
There are about forty-five species of crow in the world (a couple more by some estimations, a couple fewer by others, depending on whether local varieties are split into separate entities or lumped together). Although they are known by a variety of common names, including ravens, jackdaws, and rooks, all are members of the genus Corvus, or crow, and all are variations on a theme, with their glossy black (or sometimes black-and-white) plumage, their raucous voices, and their seemingly endless capacity to fly out of the frame of our expectations and surprise us. They are medium-sized or largish birds—the smallest, the European jackdaw, Corvus monedula, is about the size of a large cockatiel—with sturdy bills, strong feet, and venturing minds that are formed for exploration and discovery. The burliest member of the crow tribe, the common raven, Corvus corax, is as big and brassy as a macaw and just as impressive, with its liquid calls, rustling cape of feathers, and keen alertness. (One of the most widespread birds in the world, the common raven is found throughout the Northern Hemisphere, from Europe and North Africa east through Asia and across the northern reaches of the New World.)
In between these extremes in size lie the other members of the global crow congregation, including a dozen species found exclusively in Europe and Asia—among them the gregarious rook, Corvus frugilegus, a familiar bird of farmland across both continents, the pied hooded crow, Corvis cornix, and its all-black cousin, the carrion crow, Corvus corone. Another eight or nine species are native to Africa, and five or six are found only in Australia: the Australian raven, Corvus coronoides, for example, with its mournful, fading wail, and the only-slightly-smaller little crow, Corvus bennetti, which is famous for its exuberant aerial displays. Yet another dozen-plus species are unique to islands in the South Pacific and the West Indies, from New Caledonia and New Guinea to Jamaica.
Strangely, there are no crows at all in South or Central America, where los observadores de pájaros have to be content with a profusion of brightly colored jays and magpies, the crows’ closest relatives. (Crows, magpies, and jays belong to different genera, or kinship groupings, within the larger family connection of the tribe Corvini.) North America is blessed with four species all its own: the sociable northwestern crow, Corvus caurinus, of the west coast; the glossy fish crow, Corvus ossifragus, of the eastern seaboard, with its distinctive nasal caw; the heavyset Chihuahuan raven, Corvus cryptoleucus, of northern Mexico
and the southwestern United States; and the lively American crow, Corvus brachyrhynchos, which is seen and heard almost everywhere else. Rounding out the clangorous chorus, in North America as elsewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, is the common raven, which drifts over gloomy forests and bleak tundra from sea to sea to sea, uttering its sonorous commentary.
Crows and ravens make a statement just by being themselves. Everything about them says, “It’s me. I’m here. This is my world, my place in the world, and don’t you forget it.” They are the opposite of shyness, the antithesis of camouflage, the very embodiment of self-promotion. And although their showy behavior is primarily intended to attract the attention of others of their kind, their“advertising package” is also ideally pitched to attract the human ear and eye. Unlike the little dickey-birds that set us scrambling for binoculars and frantically twiddling knobs, crows are big and bold, making them easy
CROWS OF THE WORLD
There are about forty-five species of crow in the world (a couple more by some estimations, a couple fewer by others, depending on whether local varieties are split into separate entities or lumped together). Although they are known by a variety of common names, including ravens, jackdaws, and rooks, all are members of the genus Corvus, or crow, and all are variations on a theme, with their glossy black (or sometimes black-and-white) plumage, their raucous voices, and their seemingly endless capacity to fly out of the frame of our expectations and surprise us. They are medium-sized or largish birds—the smallest, the European jackdaw, Corvus monedula, is about the size of a large cockatiel—with sturdy bills, strong feet, and venturing minds that are formed for exploration and discovery. The burliest member of the crow tribe, the common raven, Corvus corax, is as big and brassy as a macaw and just as impressive, with its liquid calls, rustling cape of feathers, and keen alertness. (One of the most widespread birds in the world, the common raven is found throughout the Northern Hemisphere, from Europe and North Africa east through Asia and across the northern reaches of the New World.)
In between these extremes in size lie the other members of the global crow congregation, including a dozen species found exclusively in Europe and Asia—among them the gregarious rook, Corvus frugilegus, a familiar bird of farmland across both continents, the pied hooded crow, Corvis cornix, and its all-black cousin, the carrion crow, Corvus corone. Another eight or nine species are native to Africa, and five or six are found only in Australia: the Australian raven, Corvus coronoides, for example, with its mournful, fading wail, and the only-slightly-smaller little crow, Corvus bennetti, which is famous for its exuberant aerial displays. Yet another dozen-plus species are unique to islands in the South Pacific and the West Indies, from New Caledonia and New Guinea to Jamaica.
Strangely, there are no crows at all in South or Central America, where los observadores de pájaros have to be content with a profusion of brightly colored jays and magpies, the crows’ closest relatives. (Crows, magpies, and jays belong to different genera, or kinship groupings, within the larger family connection of the tribe Corvini.) North America is blessed with four species all its own: the sociable northwestern crow, Corvus caurinus, of the west coast; the glossy fish crow, Corvus ossifragus, of the eastern seaboard, with its distinctive nasal caw; the heavyset Chihuahuan raven, Corvus cryptoleucus, of northern Mexico
and the southwestern United States; and the lively American crow, Corvus brachyrhynchos, which is seen and heard almost everywhere else. Rounding out the clangorous chorus, in North America as elsewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, is the common raven, which drifts over gloomy forests and bleak tundra from sea to sea to sea, uttering its sonorous commentary.
Crows and ravens make a statement just by being themselves. Everything about them says, “It’s me. I’m here. This is my world, my place in the world, and don’t you forget it.” They are the opposite of shyness, the antithesis of camouflage, the very embodiment of self-promotion. And although their showy behavior is primarily intended to attract the attention of others of their kind, their“advertising package” is also ideally pitched to attract the human ear and eye. Unlike the little dickey-birds that set us scrambling for binoculars and frantically twiddling knobs, crows are big and bold, making them easy
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