On Behalf of Crows
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Many may already know that The Tower of London has a resident population of ravens, which are
the larger relative of the crow, and the lore says that if ever the ravens leave The Tower, the
British monarchy will fall. Perhaps some of its neighbors have hoped the ravens would depart.
In N.C., there is a state park called Ravens Rock, on the Cape Fear River, which has an outcropping
that is the home to a raven population/flock.
the larger relative of the crow, and the lore says that if ever the ravens leave The Tower, the
British monarchy will fall. Perhaps some of its neighbors have hoped the ravens would depart.
In N.C., there is a state park called Ravens Rock, on the Cape Fear River, which has an outcropping
that is the home to a raven population/flock.
Great puffins! Great name for a group of pipe smokers. Don't want to eat no crow, ha-ha.
My father used to have an expression for tough meat -- tougher than boiled owl. I'm with
the lore that says it is bad luck to kill crows.
Footnote: Ha-ha is the ancient term for lol. Back when we texted by writing a message on
a small piece of paper, wadding it up, and throwing it at the head of the recipient, usually
during school classes. It was very primitive but effective.
My father used to have an expression for tough meat -- tougher than boiled owl. I'm with
the lore that says it is bad luck to kill crows.
Footnote: Ha-ha is the ancient term for lol. Back when we texted by writing a message on
a small piece of paper, wadding it up, and throwing it at the head of the recipient, usually
during school classes. It was very primitive but effective.
mso489,
I don’t know where he came up with the crow stuff. He was an interesting guy, had traveled the world as a merchant marine and worked in the southwest USA as a surveyor for railroads and mining companies during the 20’s & 30’s. I always thought he was something of a mystic, even though he was notoriously difficult to get along with. I do remember being amazed that dogs seemed to be attracted to him and I swear he could understand what they were thinking. I was terrified of dogs; one day he took me on a walk to the territory of the meanest SOB dog I had ever seen. We stopped at the fence and while the dog was snarling and lunging at us Grandfather held my hand to keep me from running and knelt so he was face to face with the beast. After a few minutes the dog was licking his hand and wagging his tail, not a word had been spoken. That dog never gave me any problems after that and my fear of dogs vanished.
He was estranged from his family, including my father and his other children although they took care of him and provided for him in his old age. I never knew what caused the rift; I suspect it had a lot to do with him not being around much for the family. For some reason and I remember my aunts and uncles remarking about this, he took a liking to me and was closer to me than he had been with any of his children. We spent a lot of time together; maybe he was trying to make up for his mistakes. It was probably during one of those walks that he told me about the crows. I’m sure he told me many things but that just stuck with me, that and his way of looking past you off into the distance as though he was looking at something that wasn’t there.
So maybe he picked up some Indian lore while in the desert or maybe it was his old Celtic soul, I don’t know. He passed away when I was eleven, maybe he had seen something in me for we did have a connection that he didn’t have with others in his family. My most prized possession is his humidor and it is on my desk as I type.
I don’t know where he came up with the crow stuff. He was an interesting guy, had traveled the world as a merchant marine and worked in the southwest USA as a surveyor for railroads and mining companies during the 20’s & 30’s. I always thought he was something of a mystic, even though he was notoriously difficult to get along with. I do remember being amazed that dogs seemed to be attracted to him and I swear he could understand what they were thinking. I was terrified of dogs; one day he took me on a walk to the territory of the meanest SOB dog I had ever seen. We stopped at the fence and while the dog was snarling and lunging at us Grandfather held my hand to keep me from running and knelt so he was face to face with the beast. After a few minutes the dog was licking his hand and wagging his tail, not a word had been spoken. That dog never gave me any problems after that and my fear of dogs vanished.
He was estranged from his family, including my father and his other children although they took care of him and provided for him in his old age. I never knew what caused the rift; I suspect it had a lot to do with him not being around much for the family. For some reason and I remember my aunts and uncles remarking about this, he took a liking to me and was closer to me than he had been with any of his children. We spent a lot of time together; maybe he was trying to make up for his mistakes. It was probably during one of those walks that he told me about the crows. I’m sure he told me many things but that just stuck with me, that and his way of looking past you off into the distance as though he was looking at something that wasn’t there.
So maybe he picked up some Indian lore while in the desert or maybe it was his old Celtic soul, I don’t know. He passed away when I was eleven, maybe he had seen something in me for we did have a connection that he didn’t have with others in his family. My most prized possession is his humidor and it is on my desk as I type.
This has become an absolutely fascinating thread! The crow lore is delightful. And the collectives:
A murder of crows.
A parliament of owls.
A congress of baboons.
Not satisfied with a puffin as the collective noun for pipe smokers. How 'bout a fume of pipe smokers?
A murder of crows.
A parliament of owls.
A congress of baboons.
Not satisfied with a puffin as the collective noun for pipe smokers. How 'bout a fume of pipe smokers?
I saw a study on crows that showed how intelligent they are.
Researchers would walk around campus with masks on and either do something bad or nothing to the crows. They crows would not only recognize who was and wasn't a threat, but communicate that to the rest of the crows, and remember it. Months later, a person wearing a 'bad' mask would walk around and the crows would signal the alarm.
They also not only make tools, but can make tools that make tools. A researcher put a goodie in a tube with a stick laying nearby. After the crows found out they couldn't reach the goodie, they would grab the stick to fish it out.
The researcher made a longer tube with the goodie and the stick, but the stick was not long enoungh to reach the goodie. Nearby he hung something to make the stick longer. The crows figured out they could attach the something to the stick and reach the goodie.
My brother-in-law uses a crow call to hunt squirrels. If the squirrels are hiding, he makes the crow 'all-ok' call. The squirrels know the crows keep sentries in the tops of trees and come out. He says lots of animals feed off the crow's 'all-ok' and 'danger' calls.
(PS A ring of pipers?)
Researchers would walk around campus with masks on and either do something bad or nothing to the crows. They crows would not only recognize who was and wasn't a threat, but communicate that to the rest of the crows, and remember it. Months later, a person wearing a 'bad' mask would walk around and the crows would signal the alarm.
They also not only make tools, but can make tools that make tools. A researcher put a goodie in a tube with a stick laying nearby. After the crows found out they couldn't reach the goodie, they would grab the stick to fish it out.
The researcher made a longer tube with the goodie and the stick, but the stick was not long enoungh to reach the goodie. Nearby he hung something to make the stick longer. The crows figured out they could attach the something to the stick and reach the goodie.
My brother-in-law uses a crow call to hunt squirrels. If the squirrels are hiding, he makes the crow 'all-ok' call. The squirrels know the crows keep sentries in the tops of trees and come out. He says lots of animals feed off the crow's 'all-ok' and 'danger' calls.
(PS A ring of pipers?)
Last summer, I trained a small family of crows who live near my place of work to eat out of my hand and come when I call. It turned out to be surprisingly quick and easy with the mother coming to within inches of me in no more than a few days. Her three young all show signs of malnourishment: white feathers mostly on their wings. Nevertheless, they turned out to be fussy eaters with a clear preference for stale white bread and sausage over dark bread and cheese. At the end of summer, we had established fixed meal times at noon and at six, which they agreed to in again a matter of days but apparently under the condition I was just as punctual as they are because if not, the mother will enter my small office and sit in front of the refrigerator making loud noises. At other times, they will come if I call them but I'm told they don't show themselves at all when I'm not around.
So a nice crow will help show you the way home, they remember where they bury stuff, know what going inside to get the shotgun means, can count, recognize faces, can not only make tools, but make tools that make tools, and can tell time.
Damn!
Need to get out my crow call and learn to say something other than apparently Yo Mama.
Damn!
Need to get out my crow call and learn to say something other than apparently Yo Mama.
Getting colder here, going to snow later. I filled up the bird feeders. My wife asked me to take
a can of solidified bacon grease and put some on the limbs of trees and shrubs I could reach.
The little songbirds came and busied around the feeders, and I saw them when I glanced out the
windows from time to time. No takers on the grease. I thought I might be encountering the grease
when I go to prune. But then a whole crowd of eager diners showed up and took turns dipping into
the various dollops of nice, high caloric white fat. Crows! To the rescue. Yum-yum.
a can of solidified bacon grease and put some on the limbs of trees and shrubs I could reach.
The little songbirds came and busied around the feeders, and I saw them when I glanced out the
windows from time to time. No takers on the grease. I thought I might be encountering the grease
when I go to prune. But then a whole crowd of eager diners showed up and took turns dipping into
the various dollops of nice, high caloric white fat. Crows! To the rescue. Yum-yum.
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