Gabby the crow has been giein’ it laldy again. He sits atop a telegraph pole and yaps away, deploying a series of gurgling noises, whoops, tweets, caws and general wibbles.
Fascinating fellow. He’s the only one of the flock, or “murder” as the dubious collective noun has it, of crows who does this. Detaches himself from the mob, finds a pole or branch to stand on, and starts holding forth.
Perhaps he’s an aspiring politician or orator. Certainly talks a load of nonsense. But, give him his due, clearly he has a need to communicate something, and is doubtless brighter than the rest of them, who just fly aboot shouting “Caw!” for no apparent reason every five minutes.
Why is Gabby different?
How did this come about? Why does Gabby appear to have an ounce or two more grey matter than his buddies? It can’t have been his upbringing. That’s the same for all of them: egg, fledgling, flying hither and arguably yon.
Perhaps he got hit on the heid as a bairn. Perhaps his heid sticks out at the back like that of Jeeves in the PG Wodehouse novels.
At any rate, among his contemporaries, he’s an outlier, a visionary. Bit like myself, ken?
He’s not a raven. There are a couple of these in the nearby woods, and even I can recognise the difference in both appearance and racket. He’s not even a rook or jackdaw. He’s just a common or garden crow.
Always a friendly one
I’m fascinated by how it’s only one in every species that’s particularly friendly among the smaller garden birds: just one of the blackbirds, one of the robins, one of the finches. Not sure about the tits: they all look the same to me.
Not that Gabby comes near. Sometimes, I find the crows raiding the wee birds’ feeding station. But they do a runner, or a flier, when the Mighty Rab comes near.
Sometimes, I shout hello at Gabby, but he just gives me a look that says: “Shut up, you! I’m trying to get a word in edgeways here.”
You never see crows eating anything. Maybe Gabby is saying: “I could murder a Jaffa Cake or a cheeky wee sausage roll wi’ broon sauce.”
I suppose they get stuff in the soil. But there’s nowt much in the soil over winter.
It’s the same with gulls. On the lonely shore, I see them just sitting on rocks, probably thinking great thoughts like your columnist. But you never see them eating anything.
Mind you, maybe they look at me and think: “You never see Rab eating anything. Just kinda stands there looking glaikit.”
Crows do smart things
It’s a shame for crows to be called a “murder”. Maybe they think of us collectively as a “blooter” of humans.
On yon YouTube, you can find videos of crows doing smart things, including leaving gifts – any small human-made items they find – to people who feed them.
And, of course, various members of the corvid family are known for their language skills.
Certainly, they sound more eloquent than Scottish footballers: “Listen, obviously ah’ve went in and kicked masel’ in the heid. Obviously.”
But Gabby speaks a language all of his own. Maybe he just likes the sound of his own voice. Luckily, I like it too.
