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Journalism of Courage
Crows alas have been paid scant attention to by birders, often regarded as dangerous nuisances. But unlike most other beady-eyed birds, if you look into the eyes of a crow, you will feel an immediate connection being made — well, the human species is an equally dangerous nuisance, I guess. (The only other bird species I can think of that connects with us like this are parrots.) There is an immediate mutual understanding between them and you. I’ve been observing a pair of crows that have lived on a tall lighthouse palm at the end of the garden in the Las Palmas complex in Arpora (Goa) for many years now — so many, that I think the skyscraper property has probably been passed down from father to son and so on. No, they do not nest in the palm tree — I carefully scrutinised it with binoculars, but there is a huge, dark mango tree just next door where they may well have their nursery. They merely hang out on the lighthouse palm and ensure it is pretty much their private skyscraper. Other species are not welcome — though they do usually allow a pair of black-rumped flamebacks to scuttle up and down the trunk, rata-tat-tapping for insects. And occasionally, they may have a couple of crow friends over for a gossip session.
Let a Brahminy kite sail over and they immediately scramble to intercept it and send it peevishly mewling on its way. On one occasion, an exceptionally brave Brahminy kite took panga with them, corkscrewing down at them but it was no match for the pair of crows that met the challenge and drove it off. They organised a hoarse, raucous mob in no time one evening when a langur was spotted traipsing along a neighbouring roof.
Goa does seem to have a rather healthy population of crows and like the healthy population of tourists, they hang out around bars and restaurants and beach shacks where the pickings and freebies are good. I guess they go where the literati go because there’s always garbage left lying around. I have been kept company by them on several occasions: they’ll perch near your table, and eye you keenly, sizing you up, but (unlike rhesus macaques) without hostility. The understanding is perfect: you can eat in peace but the moment you leave a piece of toast and push back your chair, well thank you very much.
There are good pickings on the beach too — fresh crabs, mackerel, calamari and so on — especially when the fishing boats come in and the catch is spread on the sand for sorting. They’ll sidle up in that typical sideways crow fashion — again with no hostility — just a canniness that is unique to their species, pick up a snack and flurry away.
On one morning at Baga Beach, the shacks were just opening up for the day, receiving their stocks of eggs, fruit and vegetables. A murder of crows, probably pros, hung around on the sand nearby, keenly eyeing the proceedings. Ah, there they were: crates of fresh eggs had just been delivered and stacked outside. Like professional pickpockets, the flock took off, most of them creating a ruckus and ensuring that the staff got distracted. In a slick move, the lifter neatly picked up an egg, flew off and carefully put it down on the sand nearby, unbroken. Breakfast had been served. Alas, the gang excitedly gathered around and a bit of a kerfuffle broke out as to who would do the honours of actually breaking the egg… But it was such a slick and practised operation that you knew it was probably an everyday occurrence.
Crows on the beach usually mean one thing — there’s something interesting to pick up from the sand. I did prevent one such bounty hunter from having starfish for breakfast (and promised him a piece of toast, a promise which I reneged on because he and a friend didn’t have their Aadhaar card and could have been any old freeloaders).
Smart and savvy though they may be, they are kept on their toes by the koels. Koels are usually the first birds to call out early in the morning (and sound as if their tails have been set on fire!) and through the day. The ones living around the complex kept the crows busy. They’d tease the lighthouse palm couple by darting near and into the mango tree and be chased across and over the pool, calling hysterically much to the fury of the crows. Both male and female koels would indulge in this racing and chasing and screaming and yodelling catch-me-if-you-can behaviour. Crows usually nest around April and May, which is naturally also when the koels pull off their reverse heists! So maybe what was going on were rehearsals for the real thing! Practice days before the finals.
What prompted me to write this piece, however, was what I witnessed on the dawn of my last day: The sky had barely lightened and there — silhouetted on a palm frond (belonging to a smaller palm adjoining the lighthouse) — were a pair of what could only have been honeymooning crows. The larger of the pair ruffled and nuzzled the head of his smaller, demure partner with a gentle tenderness that you could never imagine in such a rapacious species… But Goa is a renowned honeymoon hotspot so what’s so surprising about this, really? Crows are known to be monogamous and here was this pair obviously sealing their bond: Or were they merely a couple secretly living together? In which case, there could soon be trouble in paradise.
