A walk on the wildside

We all have heard the expression, a little bird told me, it is even the title of an old song, but did you know that birds speak to each other?

Well, that is the belief of a man who is very learned in the ways of the wild, Geir Sonerud from the Agricultural University of Norway. With his colleagues from the university, Geir radiotagged a number of crows around the Norwegian countryside, recording which birds turned up to feed each day, as well as which bird they roosted with at night.

From his investigations, Geir learned that crows have the capability to pass on information to each other about where the best feeding sites are and where they are most likely to find a partner to rear a family with. So, can you imagine the conversation on a winter’s evening as thousands of crows gather to roost in the Old Wood at Castlehyde. “Had a great day today in that ploughed field across the river, it’s full of the juiciest· worms, but do you know who I saw there, that fellow that we threw out of our rookery last year for his carry-on with the birds, the cheek of him”: This was from an old crow who was regarded as the leader of the rookery, there was silence for a while, then a young crow piped up; “Well do you know what happened to me today, I was feeding on some grain seeds in Farmer Brown’s field behind the old barn, when didn’t he blow my tail off with a blast of his shotgun, sure I wasn’t doing any harm.” This youngster got no sympathy from the old crow, who said; “that will teach you not to go off on your own, how many times do I have to tell you that birds of a feather stick together.” And so, the crows settle down for the night, a little wiser and better prepared for the days ahead.

Is all of this very absurd? Maybe so, but just let me tell you a true story of a crow who was shunned by his brothers because of his colour. This crow was minding his own business one day in a field by the bank of the Funcheon river when a man caught him by throwing a net over him. The man took him home and painted the crows shining, black plumage with white paint, then took him outside his cottage door and released him. The poor crow was frightened and confused, but his homing instinct guided him across the river to where his brothers and sisters lived in a small wood near Ballinahown. There he expected the usual warm welcome, but when the other crows saw him, they rose up into the sky in a great clamour and drove the white crow away, this was all witnessed by the man who painted the crow’s feathers, he was well satisfied with his days’ work, now he had another story for the lads in the pub that night. But what about the poor white crow? He was last seen, a little white blob in the sky, heading towards Moorpark, alone, unwanted and abandoned.

Much has been written in recent years about the Dawn Chorus. We all believed that it was the birds singing in happiness to welcome a new day, but now the experts tell us that the birds are actually checking out on each other, to hear if maybe a voice is missing. This could indicate that one of their number had died during the night and that there might be a better nesting site available, or maybe a widow looking for a new partner. There is an old fable about the cock who thought that the sun would not come up until he crew, but who was sadly disillusioned to find that he was wrong. Maybe the experts are wrong too. Most of us still believe, as in the Cat Stevens’ song, that the blackbird sings to welcome the new day. I am very grateful to my friend K.N. who told me that he has seen buzzards regularly in his area, I hope to do some walking there.