Bongo The Busker

April 30, 2023April 29, 2023 / The Urban Nature Enthusiast / 23 Comments

Since my old friend Mabel disappeared a year ago, her corner and the prized “ring of authority” have been inherited by a new pair of crows, Bongo and his mate, Bella.

Bella is currently keeping a low profile while sitting on the nest.

Bongo, it transpires, is a musical performer — a local vocal virtuoso.

It was around this time last year when he first stopped me in my tracks. Perhaps he felt that, since he wasn’t Mabel, he was going to have to go the extra mile to get my attention …

I’ve been trying to figure out what prompts Bongo’s vocal performances.

Things I have noticed:

they are certainly not a daily occurrence
they seem to be saved for the spring nesting season
it often seems to be raining (but that could be more to do with nesting season occurring in typically wet spring Vancouver weather)

Here is one recent and especially impassioned rendition …

In this video there are calls from other crows that he pauses to listen to.

On most other occasions he waits for a quiet moment and seems to be putting on a concert especially for me.

It could be that he has mistaken me for a visiting impresario, and is hoping for a Broadway breakthrough. More likely — he’s cleverly deduced that a short recitation results in a few more peanuts.

He certainly puts a lot of effort into his performances — tail and wings outspread like a maestro fanning out his tailcoat for dramatic impact. A deep ceremonial bow is also part of the performance.

What does it all mean? Is he mimicking something, or is he interpreting the world through song? Is he a crow poet … a bird bard?

Each time I hear him I come up with new ideas.

Is he doing his impression of:

the back-up beeping of heavy machinery?
the distant “boing” of a dinner gong? (not that this is really a “dinner gong” sort of neighbourhood …)
a cat’s plaintive miaowing?

Or is he simply expressing his feelings with a heartfelt “wow” at all the wonders of the world?

When I’ve posted his calls on social media, a lot of people fall squarely into the “sounds just like a cat” camp. Somehow I’m not quite convinced, as Bongo’s “bongs” don’t sound quite like our cat, Edgar, whose miaows are a considerably more sustained and dramatic.

But that might just be Edgar.

The following video of White Wing (also captured during nesting season) has her making a series of short “barks” followed by a much more convincing, soulful cat and Edgar-like miaow/yowl.

Another thing to note about the Songs of Bongo are that, although soft sounding, they travel far amid the other chaotic city sounds. Rather like a raven, Bongo has excellent projection.

Anyway, Bongo has become one of my favourite crows — and not just because of his troubadour skills. He’s an engaging model and is being a conscientious dad by staying close to his corner and keeping an eye on Bella and the nest.

Bongo is the subject of one of my latest print images, Rust and Crow, in which he manages to look all at once fierce, elegant and (like his forbear Mabel) ever so slightly frazzled — a combination that only crows seem able to pull off perfectly.

I shall give the last, short word to Bongo, who sometimes gives single-bong recitals.
Brief, yet full of meaning …

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Crow Goes Boing

May 3, 2022 / The Urban Nature Enthusiast / 6 Comments

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!

Wall of Sound

June 28, 2018 / The Urban Nature Enthusiast / 3 Comments

Crow Wall of Sound

It sounded as if Crowmaggedon was in progress in the back alley.

I went out to investigate — expecting, from the sheer volume of sound, to find a full scale murder going on.

Instead, I found two crows — Marvin and Mavis.

Sometimes just Marvin, as Mavis kept making trips back to check on the nest.

It was same call they make when poor Edgar (the cat) ventures out onto our back deck. It is, I’m guessing, their “gound threat” alarm call. They seem to have a slightly higher pitched one for airborne enemies.

Edgar was sleeping innocently on the couch, so not the cause of the ruckus this time.

But I did glimpse a raccoon’s tail disappearing under the neighbour’s fence. It must have gone to sleep there, because Marvin and Mavis kept up their protest for several hours.

This is a raccoon photograph taken the day after the Wall of Sound incident. I never did get a picture of the one that Marvin and Mavis were so mad at. I imagine it was snoring peacefully in the neighbour’s woodpile.

I guess one of the signs that you’ve truly become a “crazy crow lady” is when the ceaseless sound of cawing (which is, objectively, quite annoying after an hour or more) becomes a source of fascination.

Here is Marvin making his point. It’s impressive, for a solo effort.

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But listen how, when Mavis joins in, they cooperate to create a continuous wall of sound. Eat your heart out Phil Spector.

Mavis seems to time her calls to fill every gap in Marvin’s sequence, so that they truly do sound like a flowing river of corvid fury.

The other interesting part of the performance was the incredible number of dynamic shapes they cut against the sky.

Marvin Marching on a Line

Marvin would pace theatrically along the neighbour’s washing line — sometimes struggling to combine keeping balanced with the vocal effort. Rather like trying to sing opera while tight rope walking, I should imagine.

Marvin on a Line 1

Marvin on a Line 4

Marvin on a Line 5

Marvin on Washing Line Reel

If the story the crows wrote against the sky with their nest building silhouettes was one of peace and tranquility (see Crow Calligraphy) — this more recent essay would be on the subjects of fear, fury and determination.

Mind you, in the middle of all of this, there was time for a bit of curiosity and play. Something at the top of the washing line pole would occasionally distract Marvin from his ranting. Periodic moments of blissful silence would ensue, before he’d remember his sacred mission and pick up the protest.

So, fear, fury, determination … with a side order of comedy.

Marvin Playing

Mavis reminds Marvin to keep on task.

I enjoyed the energy of the performance so much, that I decided to use one of the pictures from that day as part of the cover for the 2019 City Crow Calendar I’m now working on.

Somehow it seems to capture a lot of all that is “crow.”

Hoping to have the calendar printed and for sale by August this year!

Later that day, raccoon finally decided to move on and peace was restored.

Here’s a more relaxed Marvin that evening, taking in the view from his favourite power line pole. The nest and the distant North Shore mountains all within view, no predators around for a moment — time to let go of all that raccoon stress.

Sunset Marvin