this is absolutely fascinating…brilliant read as always by Time
Nobody feels cuddly about crows. They’re too big, too loud, too mean. They scavenge with the greed of buzzards, prey without the grace of eagles and even chase down children who come too close to their nests. They are the dark symbols of human mythology–portents of plague, of sorcery, of evil. There’s a reason the proper term for a flock of them is a murder of crows, and it’s not because we like having them around.
But there’s something deeper going on in the soul of a crow. An animal that inflicts death so readily seems deeply moved when one of its own kind dies. A dead crow lying in the open will quickly attract two or three other crows. They dive and swoop and scold–emitting a very particular call that summons up to a hundred other members of the flock. With near ceremonial coordination, they land and surround the…
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