American crow

This week's bird, the crow, I had previously seen only when a TV show or movie needed some dark and moody symbolism.  I'm pretty sure there's an unwritten rule that every funeral scene must include a crow.  As birds go they don't have a pleasant reputation in our culture.  And I can see why, when they hang around in skeletal trees looking all broody and Byronic like this one.

And their loud caws are pretty unpleasant, too.

So it's no surprise that the scarecrow was invented.  Nevertheless, I don't mind them.  They are quite interesting to watch as they feed in little packs of three, with two poking around on the ground and a third keeping watch from a tree, occasionally rotating jobs.  And they are big.  Some of the ones we see around here are probably about the size of a chicken, but sleeker.  There are supposed to be ravens in Pennsylvania, too, (which, partly thanks to Edgar Allan Poe, have an even creepier reputation) but I haven't seen one - they are supposed to be even bigger.

But in the end they are just birds, and their reputation is undeserved.  If you ask me it's all about colour.  The blue jay is very closely related but escapes the crow's stigma because of its bright decoration.  But it's actually the more aggressive of the two, I believe.  Setting helps, too.  Here's a crow in the spring.

 Much better, don't you agree?  Much less of the harbinger of doom about it.

Indeed in the spring and summer the crow stands out clearly, unlike a lot of other birds which blend in.  So it is showy in its own way.  Alas, I doubt my attempt to rehabilitate the crow's image will do much.  The cardinal and blue jay are always going to be the stars of tea towels and garden flags, let's face it.  But I still like the crow.