It was a pleasant morning with a cool breeze blowing. I sat in my favourite chair in the balcony with a hot cup of coffee, gazing outside. I caught sight of two crows sitting side by side in perfect harmony. Gladness within me surged but when I took a closer look at the pair, my heart sank! The birds were not crows but rock-pigeons, avian creatures I have little sympathy for. I guess you know why.
They occupy every nook and corner, gorging themselves fat and inundating the surroundings with their dirty droppings. They also spend all day billing, cooing and breeding.
What about crows, you may ask. They are a different species, well-deserving of our admiration and appreciation. Here is what the doyen of bird-life, Salim Ali, observed: ‘His intelligence and boldness coupled with an infinite capacity for scenting danger carry him triumphantly through a life of sin and wrong-doing. His thieving propensities however are redeemed by his efficient services as a scavenger.’ Besides, he can be a loyal and affectionate companion.
My attachment to crows probably began with the lullabies my mother sang: Kake, kake, kood evide (crow, crow where is your nest?). They still reverberate in my mind! One of them snatched a laddoo from my hands when I was a toddler, causing a nasty cut, but this did not make me wary of them. I fed them rice mixed with a dollop of ghee.
One of them would pick the rice from my open palm. I watched them fascinated as they hid the left-over rice under fallen leaves.
If you think they forget faces, you are mistaken. One of them built a nest in a Vyjayanti tree in the garden. My father gathered its flowers for his daily puja, and he had the servant shake the tree to loosen them. This so angered the crow that he would fly from his perch a yard away to peck the servant on his head when he
saw him approach. In the end, the man had to tie a turban to protect himself. However, this crow redeemed himself by recognising a thief and issuing a warning. In the quiet hours of the afternoon, he cawed persistently. Coming out to shoo him, my mother saw the thief helping himself to the cement bags stored in the garage and was caught.
Masters at survival, crows build symbiotic relationships. I once saw a languidly ruminating cow with a crow pecking ticks off its back. The two clearly enjoyed this until the crow impudently thrust its beak into the beast’s nostril. The happy spell was broken but left neither frazzled.
My nephew once rescued a crow that had fallen from its nest. It became so attached to him that it followed him everywhere. He had to release it though, but it came to visit him often.
The renowned cartoonist R K Laxman was fascinated by crows and had an exhibition of crow-drawings. He considered them the best of birds. Amen to that!