Stone the Crows

I’m privileged to host an incredibly diverse array of wildlife in my garden. For years, I’ve been rewilding the place—much to my neighbors’ annoyance. They call it untidy; I call it paradise. Among my frequent visitors are birds, including a bold pair of crows. I find them magnificent, despite the complaints about their nest-raiding and "anti-social" behaviour. (Their collective name, a "murder," doesn’t help their PR.) These crows have even dropped the occasional gift for me—they recognize faces, and this duo is particularly fearless. Crows have cohabitated and co-evolved with other species for tens of millions of years. That longevity suggests they’re doing something right. Highly intelligent, they adapt to diverse habitats, nesting sites, and food sources. Their opportunistic nature lets them thrive alongside humans, even as other bird populations decline. Yet instead of addressing complex environmental issues, many blame crows for their success. Folklore paints them as enigmatic omens. In the British Isles, a lone crow might send shivers down your spine as a harbinger of misfortune, while a pair signals good luck. This duality reflects our tangled relationship with corvids. The Celts revered crows as magical messengers; the Morrígan, goddess of war and fate, often took their form, her gaze chilling warriors. Beyond myth, crows’ tool-using prowess and problem-solving genius have earned them associations with wisdom—even divine insight—in cultures worldwide. So if it’s wisdom you seek, be kind to the crows. #365daysofdogwalking