Feathered Fury: The Intriguing Neighborhood Showdown of Owls and Crows
And the gut-wrenching duality of living with wildlife.
For those lucky enough to live among wildlife, we face a complex duality.
On one hand, we get to see critters engaging in their daily behaviors… foraging, feeding, resting. Sometimes we have those awkward moments where we see them reproducing, followed by the heartwarming moments when we see them rearing their babies.
We create memories with them, we look forward to their visits, they become part of our extended family.
On the other hand, we see the downstream effects of their foraging, feeding, and child-rearing behaviors. All of nature repeats the simple cycle of life, and every animal is just a mere step on the food chain.
For the past 3 years, I’ve forged relationships with a family of crows and a family of owls, albeit separate relationships. And I didn’t think one knew about the other. The crows drop by the yard in the morning while the owls are nighttime visitors encountered on walks around the neighborhood. Our worlds demarcated by time and place.
Intelligent, social, fearless
Crows are supremely intelligent, often placing food in the road and hopping out of the way, only to return to eat it after cars have pulverized it. They can also recognize individual humans and it is said that they can remember if someone treats them badly, communicating that information to fellow crows. They mate for life and continue to live in small family groups, with older siblings helping to raise newborns each year.
I noticed a family of crows living in my neighborhood a few years ago. I witnessed the hungry cries of the babies and their parents feeding them. Through my daily walks, I determined that 5 crows frequented this part of my neighborhood.
One day while walking, I saw tufts of large black feathers in the road underneath a massive live oak tree and after that, I only saw 4 of my corvid friends. It made me quite sad, and I pondered who could take out a crow like that. With no evidence of vehicular manslaughter [or crow-slaughter?], I deduced it must have been a bird of prey as we have eagles, hawks, and owls that also share the neighborhood.
More recently, the crows have been visiting my yard daily to partake in the bird bath in front of my office window. Sometimes they drink, other times they bring a freshly killed lizard or peanut shell, both of which they will soak for a few minutes in the water before eating. They look at me through my window while they do this, and I nod at them with great respect and approval of their complex eating habits.
Crepuscular, monogamous, stealthy
I’ve written previously about my neighborhood encounters with barred owls. They have nested in various trees in the surrounding block for the past few years, their notable call [“Who cooks for you?”] piercing the silence of dusk and dawn.
They also mate for life and tend to be quite territorial once they’ve staked out their property. Seeing their little fuzzball babies emerge from the nest and learn to fly was one of the most precious experiences of my life.
I’ve caught them on video sitting on the fence in the nighttime hours, hunting in my yard. Occasionally when I’m walking the dogs in the evening, I’ll feel an odd sensation of being watched. I look up to see an owl silhouette in the trees above me. They glide amongst the oaks and pines like a stealth bomber; you never hear them coming.
Showdown in the oaks
So what happens when an owl and a crow cross paths? Well, given that they’re enemies, anyone in the vicinity should likely duck and cover. Or you could be like me and watch with wide-eyed disbelief as two critters you love and respect engage in a horrid display of… just being themselves.
I heard the telltale hiss of baby owls while on a recent nightly neighborhood walk and wandered closer for a look. In the canopy of a large oak tree, I saw a flash of black wings and spotted brown feathers.
A crow flew off. An adult owl chased it.
Another crow swooped in and clipped a baby owl sitting on a tree limb. The baby toppled over and hung upside down grasping a smaller branch on the underside of the larger limb. It fluttered and tried to upright itself.
Two crows continued their ambush like crazed toddlers attacking a piñata while both owl parents flew to various limbs in the large oak. The baby’s sibling, smaller and fluffier, began to cry and shuffled along the limb to get closer, a meager but adorable attempt to help.
My spouse has experience working with birds of prey and we wanted to remain on standby in case the baby became injured. After 10 minutes of swinging and flapping its wings, the baby fell 20 feet to the ground. A crow immediately dive-bombed it, then arced up to perch on a nearby light pole.
Thoroughly disappointed in my crow friend, I shot him a glaring look of admonition and moved closer to the light pole, putting my presence between it and the grounded baby. Momma [or Daddy] Owl stared at me from above, seemingly trying to determine who was the bigger threat.
The baby sat stunned for a few minutes.
The crow finally flew off.
Then, having regained its balance and strength, the baby owl waddled to the base of the tree.
The tree has a slight angle to it, and the baby went around to the other side and began to hop up the tree, using the angled bark to its advantage. He made quick work of the 20 feet that separated him from his branch. I stared in awe at his strength and resilience.
A neighborhood feud
All seemed to settle for the night after the baby got back into the tree. But the next day I could hear the crows cackling as they mobbed the trees again where the owls nest.
Owls are birds of prey and will often eat crow eggs, young crows, and even adults. In return, crows often counterattack owls and their babies as a risk reduction technique.
Reduce the population, reduce the threat.
Given that the crows and owls live a mere 3 blocks from one another in my neighborhood, it is likely this antagonistic behavior will continue.
I, on the other hand, am grappling with an emotional feud of my own. How do I reconcile the warm affection for my feathered neighbors with the dismay of witnessing their brutal survival instincts? It now occurs to me that the tufts of black crow feathers I saw years ago could have been the handiwork of the barred owls.
Living in a neighborhood teeming with wildlife is an incredible experience. Despite the occasional emotional turmoil it causes, I wouldn’t choose to live anywhere else. I also can’t help but notice the crows have broken their daily routine of visiting the bird bath. Perhaps they possess a social awareness and know I need a brief time out from them as I sort all of this out.