marvin

You may remember last year’s post about Lou, one of Mavis and Marvin’s 2025 fledglings. I always had a special spot in my heart for this little one, and hoped he’d stick around for a while.

He did stay around all winter, but disappeared around the start of this spring’s nesting season.

In many ways, I wasn’t surprised if Mom and Dad had encouraged him to move on. Their previous stay-at-home fledgling, Lucky, remained with them for almost three years. While he or she was a well-loved family member and handy reinforcement in the frequent territorial disputes with rival neighbours, Norman and Nancy, s/he wasn’t a very effective nest helper, with no new fledglings born during the “Lucky” years.

Norman & Nancy being yelled at by Marvin, Mavis & Lucky

Below is one of my all time favourite videos, showing Marvin (left) encouraging Lucky (middle) to put more oomph into his partisan cawing during one of many verbal battles with the neighbours.
It’s not the greatest video, technically, but I love the family dynamic it captures.

After two springs with no fledglings, it was time for Lucky to move on. Lesson learned, it would seem that Marvin and Mavis allowed Lou one winter with the family, before urging him to head off and see the world.

Alas, even without a “teenager” at home, Marvin and Mavis had no luck in the 2026 nesting sweepstakes.

Marvin and Mavis guarding their territory on a breezy summer day.

At one point in the summer they had a brief visit from a crow that I suspected was Lou coming home to check in on the folks. The mystery crow acted very much like Lou, but I couldn’t get a good enough look to be sure — and then they were gone again.

But, on September 23, he was definitely back.

Lou’s personality is enough to provide a strong clue to his identity all by itself— something about his general bounciness, his insatiable curiosity and constant motion. He’s prone to adopting a bowing posture, like his dad, and often scans the sky for danger — a good trait for self-preservation in any young crow.

But the gold standard of Lou-identification has always been the tiny little patch of white feather on the left side of his head.

I had assumed that he’d lose that tell-tale patch after moulting season, but it’s still there! He was still moulting a little in September, so the patch was a little harder to spot amid the scruffy plumage — but definitely visible.

You can see some of his personality, and the little white mark, in this video, taken shortly after he returned in September

By October 1, he was mostly past the moulting phase and his feather marking was much clearer.

Family group, Marvin back right, Mavis back left and Lou in foreground

Mom and Dad seem happy to have Lou move back in with them for the winter, and I am certainly happy to see three of my favourite crows back together again.

Marvin and Mavis are the crows I’ve known the longest now, with handsome Marvin chosen as the 2027 City Crow Calendar cover. His is the crow story and portrait for January, with Mavis featured in May, and Lou rounding out the year in December.

Fluffy Marvin at the start of moulting season

Marvin earlier this week

Mavis on the same day

The degree to which seeing Lou every day brightens my day is kind of ridiculous, but there it is …

Which reminds me of a blog post I’ve been bouncing around in my brain for year: “Crows and Wealth Management.”

The concept relies upon the simple formula of Joy = Wealth

It’s a simple equation, yet one we often get reversed; sometimes it just takes a young crow chasing seeds in a parking lot to help us get it right.

For more on Marvin, Mavis and Lou:

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This post will have stories … about crows … eventually.

But first, I wanted to share a few thoughts that have been rolling around in my head about the idea of “story.”

Mostly I look at the world in a visual way. I’m a photographer, so I’m always looking for shapes, colours, light, shade, textures and so on. They do say that a picture is worth a thousand words but, for me, the words hovering behind the picture are just as important. Every photograph I take has at least the inkling of a story behind it.

My academic background is in English Literature — so, naturally I’m a sucker for narrative. I guess that’s why, even though my work is pictorial, I’ve come to love writing this blog. The thousand words behind the picture.

Crows seem to be the perfect subjects for both pictures and stories.

Visually, they are fascinating — whether viewed from a distance as inky calligraphy against the sky …

… or closer up, where you can see the myriad colours in the allegedly black feathers, and the soulful intelligence in their restless eyes.

Story-wise, they’re an endless resource. They’re a minefield of metaphor and motif; a stockpile of symbolism and simile.

And character — don’t get me started! Every time I spend time with a crow, I can’t help but see something in their expression that parallels the human experience.

And I guess that’s the value of story.

It lures you into looking deeper into worlds that aren’t your own, and makes your life richer, funnier and more full of empathy as a result.

OK, enough rambling and, finally (as promised) some crow-necdotes!

Tales of Mavis and Marvin

As winter dug in, it became clear that these two had become de facto king and queen of my back garden. For a while some of the younger crows from the Firehall Five would try and horn in on the action, but there must have been some sort of back room deal, because I now never see them in the yard. Occasionally there is some minor skirmish with Eric and Clara who will make forays into the front garden, but generally detente has been reached in the hyper-local corvid community.

On Christmas Day Marvin and Mavis had the garden to themselves, apart from the chickadees, juncos, song sparrow and lone hummingbird.

Art Appreciation

Marvin continues his fascination with the garden statuary.

Not sure if this was a gesture of affection, or frustration at the failure of his efforts to get a response.

Attempting conversation with the equally taciturn cast iron crows by the studio.

New Year Challenge

The daily offering of peanuts and dog kibble was becoming a bit routine, so I decided to give Marvin and Mavis a bit more of a challenge. Once they’ve had a few easy-picking peanuts and kibble from the back deck, I set up a bit of an obstacle course for them.

There’s a gnarled piece of Hornby Island driftwood in the garden by the picket fence. I wedge a few peanuts in the stick and watch Marvin and Mavis problem-solve how to get them out. First challenge is negotiating a route along the tricky picket fence.

The first few tries had them scrambling and flapping. It’s also a bit of a “beat the clock” affair, since chickadees are snatching them easily from the driftwood while Marvin and Mavis are figuring out how to get to them.

King of the driftwood castle.

After a couple of weeks, they are now experts. This photo of Marvin, showing off his picket fence mastery is now one of my favourites (and available as prints and tiles!).

Winter Weather

As usual in Vancouver, we’ve had a winter mélange of snow, rain and wind. Some of my favourite crow portraits are catching them in seeming response to adverse weather conditions. It’s then that they most remind me of myself, waiting at a bus stop or trudging home with shopping. That stoic and and somewhat exasperated look.

#rainblame

Philosopher Crow — or, Mavis adopts a philosophical approach in the face of inevitable.

Curse, you winter! Actually, this was Mavis’s response to Edgar (the cat) being out on the back deck. More like, “curse you, cat!”

So, the crow stories are endless really. I’m sure I’ll have more I can’t keep to myself soon. I hope they get you to look at the crows in your part of the world with more interest and affection, because life is just more entertaining once you let crows in.