Something strange happened this summer. My mother befriended a couple of crows and didn’t even know it. Did my mother unknowingly become an expert on how to befriend a crow?
You see, every summer, we place a bowl or bucket of water for the birds and animals that frequent the yard. Be it squirrels, yellow-billed babblers, mynas, kingfishers, red-vented bulbuls, crows or a whole host of other birds I don’t recognise. In the past, it was the territorial bulbuls or the babblers that dominated the water bowl. But this time, two crows have taken over.
For days, I observed the crows hanging around the trees closest to the house. One crow seemed plumper and bolder, while the other looked younger and unsure. It’s not that we have never had crows linger around, but it seemed like they were getting bolder. The birds cawed at us if the water was not filled to the brim or whenever they ‘accidentally’ knocked the bowl over. Several times, I caught them watching me from the tree and even spotted them on the washbasin outside the house.
Like most South Indian homes, we have a basin installed outside the house, where we clean fish or chicken, basically, anything messy or stinky. In recent years, we raised the basin onto a platform and started using it more frequently. As I watched the crows, it struck me. The washbasin had suddenly become the centre of attention.
There was another reason, too.
Whenever my mother cleaned meat, the scraps got portioned out immediately. Some went to the dog for its service in chasing away the mosquitoes and flies bothering my mother. The cat got a share too. And no. The cat offered no help and always tried to swipe a piece of two.
The crows got the pieces that neither the cat nor the dog wanted. While we used to bury unwanted scraps in the past, these days we are less keen to dig a hole. Backaches, weak muscles, a summer-hardened ground, the heat, perpetually misplaced spade – the reasons are endless.
But that meant the birds were getting more. And that is how my mother managed to befriend a crow. Curiously, the crows have started asking for more lately. Perched cautiously on the tap, they watch us keenly to see how fairly we distribute the scraps.
The crows are, in reality, well-fed by our religious neighbours who set out an offering of fruits and rice for these birds every morning. And yet, the crows choose to sit on the mango tree and watch all that goes on in our house– from the fish vendor at the gate to the trips to the chicken shop, they see it all. What’s worse, they want a part of it. And I know I shouldn’t feel bad when the crows caw at me for the piece of chicken I want to give the dog, but I still feel guilty. Perhaps the crows have learnt to play tricks on my mind.
Funnily, though, these crows have started bringing little treats for the dog. The same dog who would rush out the door if you say, “Coco, the crows are taking your food,” is now finding crab legs and fish heads under the tree. Once, we even found a piece of fried fish. The latest was a piece of jalebi that I had to pry out of the dog’s mouth.
I try not to think of the distraught person from whom the crows have been stealing. Instead, I only wish the crows would bring us an occasional treat. It’s not too much to ask, is it? Surely there must be a way to train them. Aren’t there stories of crows gifting humans with hair ties and coins? I’d like a coin too, especially in this economy.
But then I sometimes wonder: Was the jalebi actually meant for my mother? Did the dog beat her to it?
My mother can’t be bothered to check, so I have to go now and look under the tree.
While I do that, what would you do to get better treats from your friendly neighbourhood crow? Let me know in the comments.
