Crow column: A crow’s daily schedule


Ella Jennings

Crows play with new friend, the Capstone reporter

Katie Sherwood, Capstone Editor

This past week, students were busy with classes, homework and club events. But what are their beloved crow friends up to while their humans are busy? To find out, one of our reporters at the Capstone took a day off from classes to observe the crows and their daytime mischief.

8:00 a.m. – Breakfast outside the DC. The crows hop on tables and sample pickings from the outdoor trash cans. 

9:15 a.m. –  With many students either away in classes, or still asleep, the campus is strangely quiet. At the tents that host sleepy students, the crows gather around and caw loudly whenever the professor tries to say something important. 

10:30 a.m. – Students have again vacated the grounds as they worship in chapel. The crows strut down the main walkways, pretending to be students themselves.

11:30 a.m. – Lunch. The crows again gather at the outdoor DC dining area to scavenge for scraps and other delicious DC morsels. Some sadly tap on the glass; do they mourn the fact that they’re barred from joining students at the table like they did last year?

12:00 p.m. – Tea time in the Kerrwood gardens. The crows gather by the dozens in the trees surrounding Kerrwood Hall, conversing. Their melodic caws provide a soothing backdrop to students trying to study on benches below them.

2:45 p.m. – They have suddenly scattered all over campus. Some dive bomb trash cans while others pick up shiny litter; still others have flown off above the trees and out of sight. Who knows what the murder is up to? I wonder if they are onto me.

3:53 p.m. – A crow stole my glasses. I am hwavingg a harf time typimg thus out.

4:26 p.m. – After chasing the crow around campus, I managed to retrieve my glasses, though one of the lenses is cracked. Either I am the unlucky target of their mischief, or they know I am a spy in their midst.

5:30 p.m. – Dinner. Much of the same, though since I am eating outside in order to watch the birds, they’ve stolen all my fries. I hope they can accept them as a peace offering and leave me be.

6:45 p.m. – Nightfall has always been the most mysterious time in regards to the crow schedule. Their dark plumage renders them near invisible in the night. I found a dark coat to give me a bit of the same protection, and they seemed to lose interest in me. The crows have begun flying off in a westward direction.

7:15 p.m. – The crows are gathering in the campus gardens. Time will tell what they plan to do here.

8:20 p.m. – I have crouched behind this bush for over an hour, and crows keep arriving. They are uncharacteristically quiet. It can only be a bad omen.

8:32 p.m. – I was wrong. The crows knew I was here the whole time and simply bade their time. They ushered me into the middle of their murder and began to flap around in some kind of crow-vortex. Then, one by one,  they dropped little trinkets at my feet. Bits of shiny trash, coins, jewelry and someone’s chemistry lab report, all gathered into a considerable pile in front of me. Afterwards, they cawed and cackled as they flew back into the night — it sounded like laughter — and left their collected hoard.

Upon reflection, the results of this case study are inconclusive. The crows seem to have altered their normal schedules in response to being watched. Who knows if the crows have a consistent schedule at all, or if they simply pick a new target of their mischief each day? Their ways are mysterious, and it seems they will stay mysterious for a while longer.

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