This morning we were woken up by the crows cawing. Literally hundreds of them in the bare oaks across the road and the evergreen hemlocks out back. Michael went downstairs to let the dogs out into the yard, and I heard him gasp as the birds took off in a giant swirl. I ran to get my camera, but they saw me open the front door and started flying back east over the neighborhood, so my photos weren't that great.
But the roosts (I looked it up and that is what they are called by the crow scientists) have been building for a while now, and I got a couple of decent shots the other night at dusk. They swirl around from tree to tree gathering in larger and larger flocks before settling down for the night.
Michael and I have been fascinated by corvids for a while. When we first started seeing each other, I was reading Ravens in Winter, which is really about what it is like to study ravens in the deep cold Vermont woods. Then we watched a documentary or two about how smart crows are. When I looked up murder vs roost today, it turns out there's a crow scientist here at Binghamton, and another one up in Ithaca (where they have the awesome Cornell Lab of Ornithology at Sapsucker Woods, which I really want to go back to once it warms back up again.) Crows will rule the world when we're gone, and might have taken over already if they had, you know, thumbs.