The Crow Must Die

        “Look!  There goes the Cooper’s hawk!” said Julie.  We had been seeing or hearing at least two all summer, probably a breeding pair with young.  But like most other observations, we again noticed only one hawk.

        “It landed on the bridge,” added Julie, referring to the small foot bridge over Killjordan Creek at Macomb’s Compton Park.  I couldn’t see the bird because of a tree that blocked my view.  But when I finally got a good look, what I saw was a crow on the bridge’s railing.

        “Oh, it was a crow, not a hawk,” I said.

        “No,” Julie adamantly stated, “I saw a Cooper’s hawk.”  So I think I may have offended her, suggesting that she mistook a crow for a hawk, the type of comment that would have caused some birders to draw blood—but not Julie, who understands a birder’s ingrained inability to not immediately correct another birder’s apparent incorrect species I.D.

        “There it is,” I nearly shouted, “and it’s after the crow!”  The two birds engaged in some rather complex aerial dynamics for what seemed like only a few seconds before each headed to separate trees, with the crow uttering low guttural sounds.  Otherwise, there was silence in the park, as its other wildlife residents waited to see what would unfold.  Meanwhile, a woman rode past on her bicycle, totally oblivious to predator and prey assessing each other, working on their next strategies of death and escape.

        Finally, apparently weary of the high drama, the crow took to the air, with the hawk immediately taking up the chase.

        “That hawk is determined to get the crow,” I said.

        “I feel sorry for the crow,” Julie countered, “but really, I don’t know if I feel sorrier for the hawk, which has to eat too.”

        “I think the hawk has the advantage here.  It has a much greater ability for quick and sharp maneuvering in flight than the crow, and its talons are deadly.  It’s really a great example of natural selection’s fine tuning.”  And here, I stopped talking while I was ahead (before the rolling eyes).  But I kept on thinking:  For accipiter hawks to have developed such outstanding flying abilities, so very many birds have had to die over deep time.  But their prey have developed counter tactics, also products of the same evolutionary process.

        “Hey,” I said, abruptly jolted back to the moment, “there are two more crows, and now they’re chasing the hawk!”  The crows worked together as a team, successfully driving the hawk out of the park.  That is, for now.  Before too long, though, I was confident, the hawk would also have its success.

 

Comments

[Thomas V. Lerczak]

Thanks Kim!

[Kim Harrod]

Entertaining read - I like crows as well so I can't help but root for them!