I’d always assumed crows, clearly well-adapted to New Haven, were pretty comfy with us humans.
That was before I tried getting near them. Even quietly approaching and observing from far below their roosts on trees, eaves or power lines—while of course avoiding standing directly beneath them—has caused flocks to take flight, carrying with them their distinctive sociable chatter, which I gather had just turned to the flat-faced creature lingering weirdly below.
For that reason and others, my close observations are much more limited than the experts’. Stan Tekiela’s Birds of Connecticut Field Guide (2000) affirms a popular tidbit about the famously intelligent American Crow: that s/he “collects and stores bright, shiny objects in the nest.” Less well-known: they can learn to mimic other avian and even human voices. And they’re so socially oriented that “unmated” crows will help raise their flockmates’ fledglings, though Connecticut’s Department of Energy & Environmental Protection notes a double edge to that sword: “ill, injured and old crows,” being perceived as a liability, “are driven from the flock and often killed.”
Experience (and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology) suggests New Haven’s crow population increases during these colder months, even as most other native birds seek warmer climes. That might just be a symptom of increased visibility, including due to reduced leaf cover, though DEEP offers reason to think the population actually does expand: “In Connecticut, most crows will remain throughout the winter,” while “in many colder areas of the country, crows will migrate south seasonally”—including, presumably, to Connecticut.
Either way, it’s going out on a sturdy limb to say that winter is crow season in New Haven, each “caw” a call to appreciate a species that chooses, from a distance, to stick it out with us.
Written and photographed by Dan Mims.
