Outside My Window

Weather:  We had an east wind today - not good in this land where the prevailing wind is from the southwest.   Eventually the wind dropped and it began to rain steadily.  I took a picture at 5:00pm near the Cathedral of Learning.  Dreary, dreary sky.  Not a good day for watching birds.

As of yesterday Pittsburgh’s precipitation was 2.39″ (that’s 37%) above normal for the year - in only 10 weeks.  No wonder the rivers are in flood.

Meanwhile my car developed a leak in the driver’s side door that made the carpet into a squishy, water-seeping bog.  I had it fixed today… I hope.

Crows:  Bonnie Jeanne Tibbetts brought an NPR story to my attention called “Taking Over the World One Crow at a Time.”  Apparently Josh Klein invented a box that teaches crows to pick up loose change in exchange for peanuts.  I have no idea if he’s tried it on wild crows yet, but I’d love to be there when he does. 

Bird song:  As the days lengthen, more birds are singing every day.  Yesterday was a good day to hear cardinals, robins, song sparrows, house finches, goldfinches and the mockingbird at Pitt.

Where do 14,000 crows go during the day? 

Ever since I counted the winter crow flock this question has puzzled me. 

If Pittsburgh’s winter crows spent their days in neighborhoods, people would complain about their daytime activities as much as they complain about the roosts, but no one comments on daytime crows.  So how do they keep such a low profile?

Today’s weather was lousy for birds and even lousier for hiking - a cold front with high winds and a wind chill of -1^oF.  My hunches about crows required driving (an indoor activity) so I decided now was the time.

A snow squall followed me out the Parkway East but the sky cleared as I arrived at the hilltop cemetery in Wilmerding.  I had guessed correctly that the cemetery was on top of the hill but I had not expected the tree line to obscure the huge landfill to the east.  Were there crows at the landfill?  I couldn’t tell, but there were certainly crows at the cemetery – about 30 - and all of them were coming from the landfill.  

Next stop, Duck Hollow on the Monongahela River across from a large shopping mall.  I’ve seen crows at the malls but I didn’t expect to see four crows on the wild side of the river.  Two were eating fallen fruit, one was sleeping low in a tree, another was hunched at the top riding the wind.  When they discovered I was watching they all left. 

On a whim I went to Woods Run to see if I could find the ravens.  Instead I found hundreds of crows gathering near Uniondale Cemetery.  The wind was too strong up there so the flock spilled downhill to the Ohio River and tried to perch on Brunots Island.  Again the wind was too strong so back up the hill they went, ready to cause trouble.  Crows everywhere, poking holes in garbage bags, landing on rooftops, side streets and fences. 

These were the crows I was looking for and they certainly weren’t making themselves scarce, but it was the end of the day, near roosting time, and I had no clue what they did before they got here.

So I have a few more answers but I’m still wondering… What do they do all day?

Last Friday outside my office window I noticed a steady stream of crows flying west-northwest into Oakland.  They were coming in to roost.

I went back to the task at my desk but when I looked up again the stream was still there, still steady.  Amazing.

I usually don’t try counting crows because I lose track but I remembered Dr. Tony Bledsoe telling me how he estimates flock numbers by counting the rate of birds during a given period of time, then measuring the time.

I picked a point of reference and set my stopwatch.  200 crows per minute.  Now all I had to do was watch until the stream ended and check the rate of crows periodically. 

I watched until it was too dark to see them.  I checked the rate a couple of times and they still flew in at 200 crows per minute.  Even after dark they kept coming, though the rate seemed to drop, but at that point I couldn’t be sure because they matched the sky.

From start to end, it was 70 minutes.  14,000 crows.  And those were only the crows I could see!  Judging by reports of crows elsewhere in Pittsburgh, the total number could be two or three times that.

In about a month, the flock will begin to disperse.  In the past few weeks they’ve changed their start and end points, and anyone who thinks “as the crows flies” means a straight line ought to watch this flock.  Even their flight path curves in the sky.

What a spectacle!  I’ve been to Nebraska to see sandhill crane migration and to Middle Creek to see snow geese.  Crows aren’t as “nice” as cranes and geese but they put on just as big a show.

           The photo is a Pittsburgh crow roost at dawn by Doug Bauman.

In the evening the crows now flock to Oakland and roost around WQED.  Everyone notices them and asks me what the crows are doing. 

Expert answers, by Dr. Kevin J. McGowan of Cornell University, can be found here.  Please do click on the link and read about it.  It’s fascinating!

My answers - totally non-expert - are best expressed by my favorite poem that describes what these entertaining black birds are up to: 

Crows  by Doug Anderson, from Blues for Unemployed Secret Police Curbstone Press ©2000.  Reprinted by permission, http://www.curbstone.org/.

Crows

Hunch in the trees
to gossip
about God and his inexorable
experimenting,
about deer guts and fish so stupid
you could sell them air
and how out in the deserts
there’s a dog called coyote
with their mind
but no wings.
Crow with Iroquois hair.
Crow with a wisecrack
for everybody,
Crow with his beak
thrust through a bun,
the paper still clinging.
Then one says something
and they all leave,
complaining
the trees are not
what they used to be.
Crow with oilslick eyes.
Crow with a knife
sheathed in a shark’s fin.
Crow
in a midnight blue suit
standing in front of a judge:
Your Honor, I didn’t
kill him,
just ate him
and I wasn’t impressed.
Crows
clustered in the bruise light
in the bottoms
of dreams.
Crows in the red maple.
Crows keeping disrespect
respectable.
Crows teasing a stalking cat,
lifting off at the last minute,
snow shagging down
from their wings.
Crows darkening the sky,
making fun of the geese
on their way to Florida.
Crows in the roses,
beaks and thorns.
Crows feeding lizards
to their brood.
Crows lifting off road kill,
floating back down
after the car has passed.
Crow with a possum eye
speared on its beak.
Crow with a French fry.
Crows
in the chicken cages
on their way to market,
the farmer finally gone mad.
Crows hunkered down
rumpling feathers,
announcing the cataract
of snow
over the sun.
The crows prosper.
Carrion is everywhere.
The night
that is coming
is so dark
it will feel
like fur on the eyes.
So dark suddenly
you cannot see the snow.
Thrust your hand in it.
Hear it like sand
blowing on the roof.
A crow shifts his foot
and snow sifts
down from the tree.

(The picture is a stock photo of a raven.)

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know I like crows, but you may not know I like ravens even better.

This is partly because I’ve read some great books about them:  Mind of the Raven and Ravens in Winter both by Bernd Heinrich, In the Company of Crows and Ravens by John M. Marzluff and Tony Angell, and Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies and Jays by Candace Savage. 

In every case, ravens shine.  They are one of the most intelligent birds on earth, persistent and innovative in solving problems and known to outwit other critters, a feat which earned them human tributes as tricksters and gods.  Ravens even play.

In this part of eastern North America, ravens are thought to live only in the mountains, far from people, but last fall Chuck Tague photographed a pair of them at Western Penitentiary along the Ohio River.  My interest was piqued!

On New Year’s Day I drove along the Ohio to a spot near the McKees Rocks Bridge.  I was looking for peregrines and wondering if there were any suitable nesting sites near the Penitentiary.  

I didn’t find any peregrines, couldn’t see any nest sites.  I was disappointed, driving away, and muttering about a wasted afternoon when a raven jumped down on the road ahead of my car.  Wow!  She started to pick up something on the road but it worried her and she did a jump-back.  Then I saw the second raven, clinging to a bridge abutment, eating gravel from a crumbling spot in the cement and flapping to stay up there.  Double wow! 

I pulled off the road to watch.  It was late afternoon and the ravens were getting ready for dinner.  The one who ate gravel was filling his crop with grit so he could digest the delicacies to come. 

I hadn’t even noticed the nearby dumpster until the male raven (he’s larger) flew to it and began to inspect the bags.  He carefully picked open a hole and began pulling out garbage and discarding the inedible: foil, styrofoam plates, napkins, boxes.  Jackpot!  Chicken bones!

His mate began working on another bag.  She pulled out paper, folders and coffee cups.  Bummer!  Office supplies!  She gave up and walked the dumpster rim to the male’s side and tried to get a piece of the action.  He wasn’t mean about it but it was clear he was in charge and she couldn’t reach the bag.  She hopped up and over him twice.  Eventually he was sidetracked by a particularly nice bone and she was able to sort through the bag uninterrupted.

I was fascinated and wanted to watch longer but the area is a rather creepy place - all the better for ravens who don’t want to be bothered by people.

I know what you’re thinking.  How could I get so excited about birds eating garbage?  Check out the videos at PBS’s NATURE episode on Ravens, especially The Bird in Black and you’ll see what I’m looking forward to - right here in the city!

Happy New Year! 

Many birders start a new list each year of the birds they see.  I don’t, but I still like to note the first bird on January 1.

I would have to be deaf and blind to have missed the first bird this morning.  Even before dawn a flock of crows swirled over my house like a vortex.  Today it’s windy and the crows looked like black rags flapping in the wind.  Some of them used the wind to dive and climb.

In an unusual move, about 100 of them perched in a tree across the ballfield instead of continuing on their way.  It looked like my drawing - a bunch of black dots clustered at the top of the tree.

As more waves of crows passed overhead, the perched birds shouted at the new arrivals to join them.  What a noisy, boisterous greeting to the new year!

6:45am.  Sunrise was still 45 minutes away.  “I hear crows,” said my husband.

I looked out the window, trying to see black birds in a dark sky.  I could hear it was a large flock just in front of our house, but I couldn’t see them.

Then they turned.  I swear there were 300 crows.  The flock turned back on itself twice.  In the dark it looked like a black flapping ball.  And they were loud.

This was the vanguard flock, the first to leave the roost, the noisiest, and the one that looks as if it can’t make up its mind where to go.  This indecision is probably true. 

The vanguard is made up of the cocky, the brave and the adventurous, some of whom are wise enough to know where there’s a lot of food.  The wise ones want to get an early start at the good feeding grounds without a lot of competition.  The cocky follow them closely.  The flock wheels in the air while they all figure out where the lead birds are going and who’s in the lead.

They flew southwest.  A pause.

Ten minutes later the sky is lighter and a noisy flock of a hundred crows flew over.  And then another.

Our house is in the flyway today.  If I’d been on my game this morning I could have been up and outdoors counting crows, trying to estimate the size of the winter roost.  But it’s Saturday and I have too much to do.