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When I lived in Seattle, I worked at a lab at UW that was about a 15 minute walk away from my apartment. At some point during my 3 year stay in that city I started feeding crows peanuts in the shell, and while they were reluctant at first, 5 or so months of patient entreaty earned me a the attention a group of birds that began to number in the dozens every time I left my home or the lab where I worked during daylight hours. Instead of merely collecting the peanuts that I had dropped in their presence after I cleared enough distance between them and myself, they began to actively follow me when I stepped outdoors and into their territory, sometimes even snatching from midair the nuts I tossed for them. As endearing as I found them, in time I had to start walking through backstreets, alleys, and other unusual paths in order to avoid intimidating people with the mob of crows that followed me so closely. They would sometimes even menace people who crossed my path, swooping down at them to drive them away. And though I enjoyed the company of these scoundrels, I must have spent 40 dollars in peanuts on them every month to make sure I was never in short supply. I have never been much for pet ownership, but this particular relationship with animals suited me well. I never had to clean up after them, and on the occasions that I had to leave the city, I could be confident they could take care of themselves without me. While I question whether they ever truly held for me any fondness in their little hearts or if they just saw me as a peculiar food dispenser, among them were particularly bold specimens who, on rare occasion, would land on shoulder-height walls and ledges, and permit me to extend out an offering which at times they would take directly from my hand. To know those particular birds had such trust for me felt like an accomplishment, like a communion with a wild intelligence that saw fit to abide my company, even if on mercenary terms.
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Apr 1, 2020 20:50
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| # ¿ May 21, 2024 10:23 |
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Rah, where did this pixel crow come from?
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Apr 2, 2020 09:33
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Cool, thanks A long time ago I think someone had an avatar that was like a very web 1.0 gif animation of a crow saying "thank you", with the letters coming out in windows 95 screen saver type 3d lettering I wish I could find either it, or the source
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Apr 2, 2020 16:26
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i say swears online posted:was it the old fyad poster "crow" dunno, but I want that crow gif
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Apr 2, 2020 18:16
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Maya Fey posted:it was avant garde fyad superstar Mister Crow huh, I misremembered what the text looked like nevertheless 
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Apr 2, 2020 21:05
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The_Raven posted:HEY GUISE WHATS GOIN ON IN THIS THREAD https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jBcpvaV_gY
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Apr 3, 2020 06:28
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worst ever at ping-pong posted:Someone post the crows that solve water pressure puzzles by dropping rocks in one end to raise up bobbing food in the other end tia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGaUM_OngaY
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Apr 3, 2020 14:42
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The critically endangered Alala is very smart https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOUyrtWeW4Q It also has a really funny call Yet another victim of colonialism...
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Apr 3, 2020 14:48
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bollig posted:Crows are dope. I've been living in this city for like 8 years now and the crow population has absolutely exploded. My theory is that more people are letting their cats out, thus eating smaller birds, thus creating less competition for the same resources. It's quite astounding how many there are and I love it. peanuts in the shell are recommended by Marzluff, a UW corvid specialist unsalted is preferable
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Apr 3, 2020 19:07
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| # ¿ May 21, 2024 10:23 |
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Squizzle posted:ok fine i will goodmine the thread eventually Haha, thank you, if you liked that, maybe I will tell another story. My first personal encounter with the crows of Seattle began some time in the middle months of spring a handful of years ago, early in May or late in April. I had just moved to the part of University District to the west of UW, and was soon to begin work on the projects that drew me to that city in the first place. Taking advantage of the free time I had until then, I began scouting the area surrounding my new home. One day I wandered across a bridge which passed over the narrow section of lake that separates university territory in the north from the more urban portions of the city to the south. In the residential buffer between those two districts, I came across a crow laying low in the section of grass between the sidewalk and the street. Its eyes were bright and it seemed to be attentive to its environment, but it made no effort to move away from me as I approached it. Knowing little of the ways of crows and concerned that it might be injured, I came closer to see if there was anything visibly wrong with it. What I did not realize at that time was that this was fledgling season, and it is fairly common for the juvenile crows that make their first attempts at flight to become unnested. When they are vulnerable on the ground, they are watched closely by elder members of their clans who, as I would quickly discover, call an alert when potential threats approach. Understandably, the hulking primate hunched over to inspect their young in a curious stupor most definitely qualified as a cause for alarm. So as I observed the bird for obvious signs of injury, from the branches of surrounding trees, one calling crow became two, and two became a chorus of tens. The mass of birds that now occupied the branches above were alternating between shouting me down, committing my face to their memory, and diving down at my head. Recognizing that there was nothing to accomplish in that situation, I briskly walked back across the bridge I came from, only stopping to look back at the unnested child, whose calm demeanor betrayed no concern as its elders carried on their assault on me. For some time after that incident, certain crows would cry an alarm when they saw me, which meant I would need to leave the area quickly if I did not want to be attacked. The story of my efforts to gain their trust was in part an attempt to make amends to these birds that had built such a strong grudge against me. As that story indicates, despite my turbulent introduction to these crows, in the fullness of time they would soon become quite attached to me, though I will never know if my sentimentality for them was in any way reciprocated. It did not need to be, I do not love them because I expect them to love me back. I love them because they are marvelous, spiteful, brilliant creatures into which I easily project so much of myself. Though I am not in the habit of telling stories with morals, I advise any readers to consider the following warnings: 1. If you see an unnested fledgling, avoid it. Cross the street, choose another route if you must, but do not approach. It is being watched, and your assistance is not wanted. 2. If you do something to earn the anger of crows, do not turn your face to them. For instance, do not, in stupid sentimentality, attempt to appeal your case to them in human words! All you will accomplish is giving them visual data for future hostile encounters. 3. Even a crow may forgive its enemies. But forgiveness not come easily, and demands commitment and consistent sacrifice. These are difficult times, and I do not know what the future holds for me, or anyone I hold dear in that city. But I know the crows will be alright. I hope I get to see them again one day. Mr. Lobe fucked around with this message at 22:32 on Apr 3, 2020 |
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Apr 3, 2020 22:17
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