No worries,dear Reader; I refer in my title to a “murder” of crows.

It all beganwhen I read about an experiment conducted with crows in order to determine whetherthey would recognize individual humans. Not only can they distinguish one humanfrom another, they also, it turns out, are capable of holding a grudge for aprolonged period of time. You can see the results of that experiment in thisshort video here.

Followingthat, I found another video which demonstrated how crows either believe in abarter system or are simply and sincerely grateful when humans offer gifts. Inreturn for food, they will eventually offer gifts. You can see that video here.

Jenny the Catperches on my kitchen table every morning (after her early morning patrol ofthe perimeter of the property), watching the “big squawky birds” and makingthat adorable chittering sound cats make when they watch birds. The crows comeby every morning about 7:00a.m. to eat the snails and slugs from my neighbor’syard, and we watch them hop around, squabble over territory, and steal fromeach other, shouting epithets in crow-speak. I decided, afterseeing the two above mentioned videos, to enhance the entertainment value for Jenny and possiblymake a crow friend or two myself by feeding them peanuts. (I purchased peanutsin the shell from Chewy.com that are intended for animal consumption. Never feed your local wildlife human food, please.)

That’s whenthe fun began.

It only tookone day and the tossing out of a couple peanuts for a couple of crows to becomecurious, swooping down and strutting around the peanuts, tilting their headsand eyeing them suspiciously. Then one guy grabbed a goober, flew up to the neighbor’srooftop, and began pecking away.

The nextmorning, both crows were there at 7:00 sharp, waiting. I threw down a couplepeanuts and retreated to the house. They flew down, each taking one, and flewoff to eat them.

That was threemonths ago.

Now everymorning there are no less than ten crows waiting—not so patiently—at 7:00.

"Caw! Caw! Caw!"

It’s likeTrick or Treat; I count the number of crows and dole out that same number ofpeanuts, lobbing them out into the street, then returning to the house to watchthe birds at the buffet.

So far, not asingle one of those ungrateful bastards has left me a gift. However, Jenny’senjoyment at their antics nearly matches mine. Here’s what I’ve seen:

Like humans,there is always a bold leader, first to fly down from his perch on the streetlight and grab a peanut. Conversely, there is the last guy, a small crow wholooks on nervously, not sure if it’s safe to descend, often waiting until it’stoo late to get a peanut. Because there is the one guy who is never contentwith just one. He picks up one in his beak, then hops quickly to anotherpeanut, trying to cram that one in as well, often dropping the first peanut inthe process. Most days, he is not satisfied until he has somehow shoved two inthis beak, at which point he flies to the peak of the neighbor’s roof and dropsthem, frequently losing the extra one as it rolls down onto the ground. Greedis not an attractive look for anyone, and “Hey, Pal,” I tell him, “you can’ttake it with you, can you?”

At any rate,I am still waiting for the day when I will come out in the morning, my fistfull of peanuts, to find one of them has left me some shiny trinket. (I guessthat’s my own form of greediness, isn’t it?) When that happens, you’ll be thefirst to know. After Jenny, of course.