Cats And Dogs Take Notice, Birds Will Out

My family has been giving me a hard time, just because I want a crow as a pet.

I think they’re worried that a crow would hurt the feelings of our dog and cat, since the crow would automatically become the smartest pet in the family, or maybe even the smartest member of the family.

This is no exaggeration. Crows are little feathered Einsteins compared to most of the animal world.

Listen to what the “Encyclopedia of American Birds” has to say about crows: “The crow, as a family, have evolved the highest degree of intelligence among birds. Experiments with captive American crows showed that they can count up to three or four.”

My cat cannot even count to one. In fact, my cat is not quite bright enough to remember how to go in and out of his cat door. He’ll stand there for minutes at a time, batting it with his paw, dimly aware that it serves some important function that he can’t quite re … That’s right! It’s the way to get outside!

Nor can my dog open a box of safety matches. Charlton Ogburn, an author who writes about birds, wrote that one day his pet crow watched him open a box of safety matches. The crow immediately gave it a try, and the crow was able to open the box, remove the matches and close it again, all on the first attempt.

It’s a good thing the crow didn’t have the manual dexterity to light up a stogie or set fire to the picnic table, because these are the exactly the kinds of activities a crow would enjoy. Crows are like the Beavis and Buttheads of the bird world. They are happiest when pulling a prank or causing mayhem.

Ogburn said his crow especially enjoyed tormenting hikers on a path near his house. As soon as the crow saw a person approaching, it would take up a station in an overhanging branch. When the person arrived at just the right spot, the bird would swoop down two inches from the person’s head. This invariably caused the person to freak out, and invariably caused the crow to dance around and laugh hysterically.

This is what I like about crows. They have a sense of humor.

They do, in fact, laugh, or at least crow-owners swear they do. I imagine it to be more like a metallic guffaw, like the kind of bray that Carol Channing might produce if particularly amused.

But a crow is discerning; it won’t laugh at just anything. If you try to slip any stupid Jim-Carrey-like material past a crow, your average crow will just stare at you and caw disdainfully.

Or maybe it will flat out say, “That’s not funny.” According to my encyclopedia, members of the crow family are tremendous mimics; they can imitate the sounds of many animals and human speech.

Here’s another thing I like about crows: They have a zest for life, or what the French would call “joie de vivre” (“joy of painting”). They love to play.

A Cornell University ornithologist (“bird nut”) said that his pet crow “was very fond of teetering, which it accomplished by running up one side of the see-saw until it went down, and then turning and running up the other.”

Teach your cat to do that.

The encyclopedia also says that crows are uncommonly quick “to profit from experience,” as generations of small rock-throwing boys have discovered. Some species of birds flee when they hear the rock whizzing past; others flee when they see the kid let fly; others flee when they see the kid’s arm cocking. Crows take off when they see a kid bend down for a rock.

And here’s something to like about ravens, which are simply extra-large crows: Ravens mate for life. This doesn’t prove they are smarter than most humans, but at least it proves they are more loyal, which is something many of us would prefer over “smart” any day.

And one final thing to like about crows: They exude cool. They swagger and strut and generally show self-confidence. This is why so many rock ‘n’ roll acts have taken on the name. There are The Crows, Crow, Stone The Crows, The Black Crowes, Counting Crows, and, of course, Sheryl Crow.

Well, I probably will never get a crow for a pet. Crows should remain wild and free, filling their niche in the ecosystem by waking up everyone in the neighborhood at 5 a.m. But maybe my family will let me adopt a wild one, feed it treats in the back yard, build it a teeter-totter, that sort of thing.

I’ll bet we can teach it to light the barbecue.

, DataTimes MEMO: To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Review