Nesting News

Nesting season is fully underway once again, and, as usual, things are going more smoothly for some crows than for others.

My next post will give a rundown on how individual crows are doing, but today I’m thinking about the general crow strategies for a successful nesting season.

This pivotal period requires some serious tactical thinking — decisions made at the outset of nest-building have big downstream consequences.

For example, when to build the nest?

With hotter, drier summers becoming the new normal, the impetus is to get started as soon as possible. Fledgling-rearing in drought conditions is really difficult and lowers the survival rate considerably.

An early start is, therefore, the obvious way to go — but there are downsides!

Any early-built nest is often in a deciduous tree that isn’t fully leafed out, allowing potential predators to observe and memorize the location.

This year, we’ve already had a lot of hot, dry weather in Vancouver, so I’ve been putting bowls of water out to help the crows keep themselves and their fledglings hydrated. It has just rained,  so we’re back to normal spring weather with puddles-a-plenty — for now.

Many of the early nests will fail for one reason or another, forcing some crows to hustle to get a second nest built. This will mean they’ll be forced to raise the fledglings in the hotter, drier weather, but they’ll usually take that chance.

Where to build the nest?

Even once a site is picked, there’s the question of whether to build higher or lower. Height offers relative safety from ground-based dangers like cats, raccoons and coyotes, but puts the nest in the hunting zone for eagles, hawks, owls and ravens.

So many risk/benefit scenarios and lessons learned in previous years are being processed by our local crow parents.

Each couple will take many factors, far beyond mere nest altitude,  into consideration before deciding where to build. Good nest sites are highly sought after, and territorial lines between crow families may be fought over and altered at this time of year.

Real estate in the city is a competitive commodity, for people AND crows.

Crow families generally have a half block or so of territory, which they will defend against other crows and, in winter,  they will spend most of their daylight hours there before heading to the roost at night. Once a nest is built and has eggs in it, the crow parents will forgo the nightly roost trip to guard the nest and, later, the fledglings,  24/7.

Crow couples prefer to nest in the same territory, year after year — but things in the city are always in flux, for people and for wildlife — and sometimes a change of scene is essential if something in the neighbourhood changes to make it less safe or desirable.

The most spectacular example of this was Marvin and Mavis’s forced last-minute move in 2021 when the nearby stand of trees they’d nested in for years was felled for a new development.

Last Spring, Bongo and Bella had to abandon their first nest due to the addition of a particularly ferocious outdoor cat to the local community. They moved their nest location out of their usual territory, forcing them to fight for space with crow neighbours to the south. Meanwhile, the territory they left vacant was snapped up by a more junior couple. Sometimes you have to put up with a less-than-ideal starter home when you’re just starting out, even if it comes with a terrifying tree-climbing cat.

Even after nesting season, the territorial lines have remained permanently redrawn.

Another example: this season, I  noticed a Cooper’s Hawk nesting in some big trees that are usually prime crow breeding spots. Some of the more senior crow families have always nested there. Now, suddenly, that particular area is much less sought after, and the only crow pair I see nesting nearby are a very young couple.

Nervous young dad

Crow trying to chase a hawk away from the nest

Their prospects are not great; aside from the predatory neighbours, this young pair are clearly inexperienced. The male, who looks very young and nervous, has not gotten the hang of bringing food to his mate as she sits on the nest, resulting in lots of loud (hawk-attracting) begging on her part, and frequent trips out of the nest to get her own snacks, when she should be sitting quietly and incubating the eggs. The odds seem pretty stacked against this young couple, but you never know …

The young crow pair that took over Bongo and Bella’s cat-scourged territory last year did succeed in raising fledglings. They were Sneezy and Sue, and one of the fledglings, Syd, is still with them — helping to defend their new territory.

Which brings me to perhaps the biggest factor in nest success or failure — sheer luck!

My next post will give a rundown on how my local crows are doing as individual families. We’ll see how Marvin & Mavis, Norman and Nancy, Bill and Irene and the rest are doing, and whether the nest gods are smiling or frowning on their efforts so far.

 

 


© junehunterimages, 2026. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to junehunterimages with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

Crow Goes Boing

I’ve been thinking a  lot about crow calls after being obliged to make my own rather terrible approximation of one last week — on CBC radio no less! I made an attempt at the most common of crow calls — your basic “caw!”

There are, of course, many more linguistic arrows in the corvid quiver — from their lovely gentle “rattle” to the sharp barking alarm call warning of eagles or other aerial danger.

I’ve written quite a few posts about the amazing language of ravens, but crows have some expressive surprises up their feathery sleeves as well.

In fact, just yesterday I heard one of the local crows making a new call.
It sounded rather like “boing,” but I think it may have been a crow version of the beeping sound of a reversing truck. Due to the huge amount of construction our neighbourhood has seen over the past three years, this noise may have been an influential soundscape element for this crow’s formative years!

This next crow lives near some urban backyard chickens and I think I detect a bit of a clucking overtone to their caw.

Finally, White Wing stole the show last spring with her dog woofing  with really impressive cat meow finale.

So, if there is ever another occasion when I’m asked to do a crow impersonation, maybe I’ll go for one of these!

 

You may also enjoy:

Learning to Speak Raven

Raven Tutor

Benjamin Crow

Last week I wrote a post on social media about Ben, the crow with a bent foot, in which I mentioned that Marvin and Mavis seem to allow him to get first dibs on the nuts and kibble I put out in the morning.

I immediately started to worry that I’d over-sentimentalized their behaviour.

Crows, much as I love them, are not generally known for their charitable works.

It’s true that  they’re extremely loyal to their family members (see George and Mabel: A Love Story.) At night they’re very co-operative and social when they come together at the roost for mutual protection, information and general fun.

But, during the day, crows stick pretty closely to their own territory — usually half a city block or so — and defend it against other crow visitors.

So why do Marvin and Mavis put up with Ben’s intrusions? I have a couple of theories, none of which include pure crow altruism on their part.

But first, the story of Ben, as far as I know it.

I noticed him last spring when he started following me on dog walks. I assumed he must be a local crow with a recently sustained injury, as I’m sure I’d have noticed his badly deformed foot if he’d been like this for a while.

He would pop up on my walks and, while doing my best to avoid conflict with other crows, I’d try to slip him a few peanuts.

In so doing, I was contravening my own rules of Peanut Diplomacy, but …

As BC’s terrible fall weather made international news, with floods and even a small hurricane, I worried about all the birds — but especially Ben.

I could imagine him out there, clamped to a branch with only one functional claw while the rest of him was flung about in the gales.

Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for a few days after a big storm and I’d think he’d been swept away, but then there he’d be again.

That one good foot must be extra, extra strong.

By then he’d started showing up at my house. I think his territory is a block or so away, but he must have a line of sight to see when I first poke my head out of the back door in the morning.

A picture of Ben looking at me from the roof early one wet morning became the print, Frazzled 2/Too.

The fact that Ben was now showing up for peanuts in Marvin and Mavis’s territory was a further breach of Peanut Diplomacy protocol.

But that face … what to do?

So, back to my theories of why Marvin and Mavis seem to have come to terms with Ben’s visits.

Theory One: Crows Are Trainable

I decided to see if I could try keep both Ben and M&M happy by trying my hand at some rudimentary crow training techniques. I mean, not much else was going on, so why not?

Ben’s great advantage is that he’s willing to come for snacks while I’m still standing nearby. Like other crows with injuries (e.g. George Brokenbeak) the risk/ benefit calculation of getting close to people shifts more into the “worth the risk” side of the ledger as it gets harder for them to get their own food.

I decided to use this fearlessness “superpower” in Ben’s favour.

When the snacks go out in the morning, several sets of crow eyes are watching.  Marvin or Mavis usually sound the breakfast call from their favourite Hydro pole.

Normally M & M would immediate swoop in and summarily scatter the competition — but I found if I stood right beside the peanuts and fixed them with a stern look and said “wait” in my best dog training voice, it bought Ben and his mate time to stuff a few peanuts and kibble in their beaks and take off.

After a couple of weeks of this everybody seemed to have got the hang of things.

Occasionally a tail tweak from Mavis is needed to reinforce the “taking turns” etiquette, but generally Ben and friend seem to know when their time is up.

Theory Two: Not Worth the Hassle

Another risk/benefit calculation, this time on the part of Marvin and Mavis, might be further explanation for their forbearance.

In spite of his limping gait, Ben is fierce. If attacked by other crows  I’ve seen him respond with impressive force. Perhaps Marvin and Mavis, knowing their food supply is generally secure, figure it’s not worth the risk to life and wing to take him on.

The M’s know, after all, that they can always come back later in the day, when things are less competitive, for a quiet visit and some extra peanuts.

Both theories, I guess, boil down to “crows are smart,” which is hardly news. I do know that I’ve spent countless hours watching crows, and the one thing I’ve learned is that they always have another surprise tucked up their wing feathers.

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on how Ben makes out, and how long we can keep the Golden Age of Breakfast Co-operation going.

 

 

 

 

 

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© junehunterimages, 2022. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to junehunterimages with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.