So, I’m walking out of the downtown library when I spy this crow perched high in the metal sculpture in the courtyard.
Or, rather, it spies me: “You gaining weight, baldy?”
I was taken aback. “Pardon?”
The bird swooped down and landed on a planter. “I read your column Wednesday,” it cawed. “That line about Oprah’s place being worth $6.7 billion Canadian sure fell flat, didn’t it?”
“That was a joke,” I protested, somewhat defensively. “I often use hyperbole. …”
The bird interrupted, reaching toward me with one wing. “Hold on, you have something on one of your chins. Nice shirt, did you dress in the dark? You know readers still prefer Gorde Hunter, right?”
Wow, the crows really are nastier this year.
Which is what we say every single spring.
Every spring the crows get cranky, helicopter parents turning into divebombers whenever they feel their precious fledglings are threatened, just like in Fairfield.
And every spring we act like this has never happened before, that the birds are rising up and going all Planet of the Apes on us. Crows are smart. They can use tools, work out problems, employ a complex language and are better at remembering faces than you are. We’re pretty sure they can learn to ride horses and subjugate mankind if they put their minds to it.
Right now there are signs taped around the library square urging people to stay away from the crows, which are fine on their own and don’t need your help/harassment. Those who frequent the square say the parents aren’t reluctant to protect their young.
Similar tales are told on an interactive mapping site — giscourses.net/crowtrax/crowtrax.html — that lets Victorians and Vancouverites post the location and details of aggressive-crow encounters. In the capital, most air-raid reports are downtown.
“Landed on head and pecked!” posted someone from Government and Fort. “Followed and swooped at me for a block and a half.”
“Angry crow on the west side of Douglas between Fort and View has been aggressively dive bombing anyone on the stretch of sidewalk around 6 a.m.,” wrote someone else.
A cluster of complaints came from Douglas near Courtney: “I witnessed the same crow attack dive on pedestrians walking in front of Rexall.” “Dive bomb with actual contact on scalp.” “Hit in the head three times by one crow in front of the Strath.”
Ominously, one bird repeatedly divebombed a woman outside Victoria police headquarters. Not only are our birds brazen, they have no fear of the law.
Now, it should be pointed out that the number of Crow Trax posts is actually down by quite a bit in Victoria compared with previous years.
It should also be pointed out that the crows are not the only birds that act aggressively (Gulls Gone Wild?) to protect their offspring. And other animals do it, too. This is the time of year when Good Deer Go Bad, the beginning of fawning season, when our urban Bambis go Godzilla on unsuspecting dog owners. Already we have heard of a dog-walker being chased in Saanich.
It was a year ago this week that my pal Buck the Deer (or one of his cloven-hoofed cronies) charged CBC Radio’s Gregor Craigie as he was walking his husky cross in Oak Bay, precipitating a slow-speed but persistent chase in which the angry ungulate stalked man and dog round and round a parked car, leaving them unharmed but perhaps as dizzy as though they had just attempted to negotiate the McTavish Interchange crop circles.
People were appalled by this. Gregor is a popular guy. My theory is Buck was sending a message: If Craigie’s not safe, nobody’s safe. It was like putting the boots to Tom Hanks.
Unlike the crow attacks, this sort of behaviour is relatively new. A decade ago, when deer were less comfortable around people (and their pets), a doe would quietly shoo her fawn away from a dog, a B.C. wildlife official said. Now the doe might go after the dog instead; it’s the pooches, not the people, who are seen as a threat.
As for the crows, they’re just doing what they always do, every spring. It will be over soon. Then we’ll just have to wait for late summer, when the wasps will be more aggressive than anyone can remember.
