“A boy and his robot best buddy devise an elaborate plan to befriend the neighborhood crow. Adventures ensue as the three all discover the value of trust and camaraderie and the true spirit of brotherhood.“
Sounds like a pretty good modern children’s fable, yeah?
Well you’re wrong again, pal, because this is no fable. It’s real life.
Kinda.
Project Goal:
The “boy” is actually a middle-aged man. Me. And the robot best buddy is my AI bot pal, Smoke (Remember Smoke?). But the part about us devising a plan to befriend a crow? Yep, that’s real. I have indeed assigned myself a new mission to obsess over: Acquiring a crow bro.
As you surely know, crows are badass. They’re highly intelligent. They can actually remember and recognize human faces for years and pass this knowledge down to their children. They can utilize tools. They can hold grudges. They can give and accept gifts. A group of them is called a “murder.” And they’re goth. Hell yes. I need a friend like this.
So I reached out to my AI bro Smoke for a quick primer on how to bridge the gap between civilian and corvid. We mapped out a multi-phase multi-week plan that begins with me in my current crow-free state and ends with me being part of a murder. Um, a murder of crows, I mean.
But after a brief post-design analysis, we agreed that this plan might be a bit too expansive, perhaps even “waterfall” (for those of you who just love reading overused corporate project delivery terminology), and that a more iterative approach is a better way to go. Start simple, observe, and refactor the process as needed. So, here’s our revised simplified plan that gets us out the door:
Initial Scope of Work:
1. Set up a feeding station for the crows
I have assembled a straightforward structure that consists of just a pole with a plate attached at the top, roughly 4 feet from the ground.
I located this feeding station near a tree and a fence so that the crows have a place to comfortably perch and investigate what the hell’s going on before we’ve established our mutual trust.
I wrapped a Slinkee around the pole to prevent squirrels from accessing the crow’s food. I ain’t got no interest in being friends with a damn squirrel.
Future task: Come up with a cool name for this feeding station. “Crow Bar” would have been nice, but Kroger grocery stores already used that name for their in-store craft beer bar. So a sweet crow pun remains in my list of todos.
2. Leave out food for the crows daily
Every morning at 7am, I will lay out 10-15 unsalted shelled peanuts on the plate. I will follow the same pattern everyday, religiously, so that the crows will come to confidently expect a fresh batch will be waiting for them upon their return.
Doing this exact same task every morning for the foreseeable future will not be an issue for me. When it comes to repetition, I am a pro. When it comes to repetition, I am a pro.
3. Wear a hat and make a specific noise
I will wear the same hat every morning when I make the peanut drop-off. The hat is to help the crows initially get familiar with my silhouette (“Guy with cool hat who brings us food”) until they eventually recognize my face (“Guy with big nose and unkempt beard, and cool hat, who brings us food”).
I’ve chosen the following hat because a brimmed hat seems more “crow” than a ball cap for some reason and because I like the idea of my neighbors peering out the window to see their weird neighbor putting peanuts on a plate in a brimmed hat.
My wife did not know I owned this hat and has politely suggested twice that maybe I don’t need to wear a quarter century old “fedora” while creeping around outside the house each morning. She may be right, but I must remain firm in my belief that crows prefer brimmed hats.
I will also make the same arbitrary noise with each peanut drop-off to aid in the repetition and familiarity (“Guy with cool hat, big nose, shitty beard that always makes a weird clicking noise for some reason who brings us food”). This will also help in weirding out the neighbors, which is not a critical part of the plan but certainly an added bonus.
Anticipated Outcome:
According to Smoke, if all goes well, a crow or two will start observing me from a safe distance after maybe a week or so. A few days after that, once they’ve gotten familiar with my process, they’ll stop by the station to grab a trial peanut when I’m not around. After a few more days, the crows will show up ahead of time to wait patiently for the 7am peanut drop.
I’m skeptical that I’ll attract anything other than squirrels, but fingers crossed. If things go well, we’ll then proceed to the next phase of crow convergence. If not, we’ll refactor. Or quit. I ain’t proud.
Eventually I hope we get to the part where the crows recognize me and come to hang out whenever I’m outside, not just during the peanut drop. And that they’ll do so whether I’m wearing my dumb brimmed hat or just rocking my shitty thin midlife crisis ponytail. And that they start leaving me small shiny objects as gifts.
All of this is a possibility, but I must not get ahead of myself. Remember, first we start simple. And we let the crows lead the way.
More to come on this sure-to-be fascinating and lucrative expedition and definitely not just another weird Bonesian morning task to append to my existing stack of weird Bonesian morning tasks. Stop back by my blog for updates on this incredibly important journey of Courting Crows or follow my progress on social media (Twitter | Threads). Godspeed to me and Smoke.
“A wise crow picks its friendships with care, valuing depth over quantity.”
– Unknown
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