PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

They’re back.

Extraterrestrials? Fire ants? Presidential candidates?

Nope. Crows. Ravens, blackbirds, whatever you prefer. “Corvus,

corvidae” for you zoologists.

Loyal readers know that I have whined about crows on these very pages

in the past. Our block has been besieged by them. Overrun. We may own the

homes, but the crows own the street.

That incessant, idiotic “caw, caw, CAW” starts well before dawn. And

we’re not talking about your average, bird-sized birds here. These things

are as tall as fifth-graders.

People don’t impress them and certainly don’t frighten them. The

louder you scream at them to stop shrieking, the louder they shriek back

at you. The more you tap on your window to scare them away, the more they

stand there and glare at you, daring you to come outside.

Let’s get to the current controversy about the Costa Mesa Police

Department and its crow-control program. Should we shoot crows? No, we

should not. We should strangle them, then shoot them.

They are unpleasant, mean-spirited creatures with poor personal

hygiene -- due mainly to the fact that crows, like vultures, will eat

things that cannot even be hinted at, let alone described, herein. In

fact, they are very good at the death and destruction business. They will

decimate all the other birds in the area by injuring them or killing them

outright.

Do you know where the word decimate comes from? Do you want to? I knew

you would.

In ancient Rome, a legion that disgraced itself in battle would be

ordered to form up afterward, and the centurion would say something like,

“You guys stunk up the place today.” With very little ceremony, every

10th man was killed on the spot, with one of those big swords that really

hurts when they poke you with it.

The Latin word for 10th being “decimus,” it was thus duly recorded

that the unfortunate legion had been “decimated.”

What does this have to do with crows? Nothing.

Just recently, I witnessed at least a fleeting moment in which justice

prevailed in the crow wars. One of my neighbors has a resident owl that I

can catch a glimpse of now and then. On some nights, I can hear him

clearly, and it is a wonderful, peaceful “whooo” sound.

One afternoon, I heard a louder than normal crow ruckus and stepped

outside to see the owl trying to hide in a tall tree while three crows

shrieked and took turns swooping down on him.

It really, really annoyed me. But I didn’t stay annoyed for long. In

an instant, the owl burst out from the tree, spread his very impressive

wings, and swooped down on one of the crows as expertly as the most

expert hawk. The owl swatted the crow from the sky like a bug, sending it

crashing head over tail into a nearby bush.

I cheered like a Giants fan watching Bobby Thompson’s home run. Amid

much cawing, the three crows took off as if their tails were on fire.

We do want to maintain some balance here, however. Crows can’t be all

bad. I think. To do a little homework, I headed for the Internet and

searched “crows.” As usual, everything you have ever wanted to know --

and much, much more -- about crows is there for the scrolling.

According to a 19th century preacher, the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, “If

men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough

to be crows.”

Uh, OK.

According to ‘60s poet laureate Bob Dylan, “My love, she’s at my

window, like a raven with a broken wing.”

Very touching, Bob. But I still wouldn’t let her in.

Much is made of the fact that crows usually have one mate for life.

Great. So did Josef Stalin, but it doesn’t mean I want him in the

backyard making noise at 5:45 a.m.

Crows are apparently very intelligent and can be taught to say a few

words.

Oh really? I guess it’s just our crows that repeat the same annoying,

fingernails-on-the-blackboard sound over and over again, at exactly the

same volume and tempo.

According to crow expert Paul Lamble, “Crows are the victims of bad

press. Look at how the language treats them. The expression ‘to eat crow’

means to do something disagreeable. To ‘crow’ is to brag obnoxiously.

Wrinkles around the eyes are called ‘crow’s feet.’ A flock is known as a

‘murder’ of crows. Crows were once thought to be nothing more than

vermin, worthy only of destruction.

Let me explain something, Paul. There is no “once” about it. And I’m

sorry about the bad press. I suppose you thought Jeffrey Dahmer was a

victim of bad press, too. Eat just one person and they never let you

forget it.

Finally and incredibly, repelling the senses and boggling the mind, I

actually found some recipes for those times when you get that

irresistible urge to scurry up a tree and bag one of the little beasts

for dinner. “Campfire Crow” and “Smoked Crow,” to be exact.

Yack. I will spare you the details.

So there you have it. Or better yet -- don’t have it. It’s them or us,

and I say it’s them.

It was hard to find something nice to say about crows in ancient

times, and it’s just as hard today. Four thousand years of hostility

can’t be wrong.

Fire at will. And yes, I know. “Which one is Will?”

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays.

He can be reached via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .