Crows stick together. In spite of the fact that they settle freely, they accumulate around evening time and talk the day over. on a midsummer night they're adept to meet in Micheltorena Park and seize the spot for themselves, filling tree after tree with squabbling dark semi reptilian scheming individualists. Cliqueish gatherings sever and head to different trees, and in the end a greater amount of the swarm moves to the elegant new tree. This appalls the trailblazers, who move to still fresher perches or player away newcomers. Plumes fly and outsider people are at times pecked to death. Winged creatures with the least group status must rest in the lowest part extensions of the tree, and a great deal of the time they wake up white in the morning.
Yet it is most likely as people that crows make their most noteworthy impact on us. Loren Eisely caught the quintessence of one crow in The Immense Journey:
"The entire farmland was covered in one of the thickest hazes in years. The roof was completely zero. All planes were grounded, and even a person on foot could scarcely see his own particular outstretched hand.
"I was grabbing over a field in the general course of the railroad station, after a climly delineated way. All of a sudden, out of "the haze, at about the level of my eyes, along these lines nearly I recoiled, there flashed a couple of huge dark wings and an immense bill. The entire feathered creature hurried over my head with a distraught cawing clamor of such repulsive fear as I have.never heard in a crow's voice in the recent past, and never hope to hear again.
"Simply being lost in a mist appeared to be barely to record for the extraordinary clumsy holler -particularly in an extreme, wise old scoundrel, for example, I realized that specific crow to be. I even looked in a mirror to see what it may be.about me that had so revolted him that he had yelled out in such challenge.
"At long last, as I worked my path toward home along the way, the result came to me. The fringes of our planets had moved. It was the haze that had done it. That crow, and I knew him well, never under any circumstances flew low close men. He had been lost, good, yet it was more than that. He had thought he was high up, and.when he experienced me approaching monstrously through the mist, he had perceived.a appalling and, to the crow mind, unnatural sight. He had seen a man reveling in the sunlight of good fortune, tainting the very heart of the crow kingdom, a harbinger of the most significant fiendishness a crow brain could imagine: air-strolling men.
"He caws now when he sees me leaving for the station in the morning, and I favor that in that note I get the vulnerability of a psyche that now realize that things are not generally what they appear. He has seen a wonder in his statures of air and is no more as different crows."
They're an outsider race, crows. As unique in relation to us as dolphins may be, in their own particular way. On the off chance that they appear to be more recognizable, it is simply because their insights has developed in coupled with our own, in the same way that that of pooches and rats has. The crow is so keen and versatile that it will keep on fitting into the universe of man, in spite of our protests. They have their arrangement, and endure man in it. While different winged creatures waver notwithstanding our developments and plunders, crows flourish. They're vagrants, meandering where they will and concentrating where the living is simple.
Their cerebrum is not the equivalent of our own, yet it is parallel. It is a quick natural workstation with it exceptional knowledge, it feeling of time and space. What's more the most perturbing thing about contemplating Crow is that you discover a frosty, computing look examining you back.