by Pushpa Kurup
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Amidst the cacophony I discern two distinct voices.
‘Hey! Look! An Arabian horse!’
‘He looks so majestic. Let’s talk to him.’
Two grey and black crows fly across to me, and perch themselves at a safe distance on a flower-draped bush overlooking the Mediterranean. They eye me carefully. I can’t deny I’m flattered by the attention.
Alexandria has a long and exquisitely beautiful beach. I’d already spent hours trotting up and down and I knew every tree that lined the beach, every little eatery that turned out delicious seafood dishes, every urchin who sauntered along aimlessly as I did.
I look back at the pair of crows with benign interest.
‘Hi!’ The first crow speaks up. ‘We belong to a family of birds that consistently tops the Avian IQ scale. We’re common crows.’
‘Alexandria is your home? It’s an idyllic place,’ I respond enthusiastically.
‘Yes. It’s associated with romantic names like Cleopatra, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony,’ the first crow ventures.
The second crow adds, ‘Founded by the Macedonian Alexander the Great around 331 B.C. it was Egypt’s capital for nearly a thousand years. Alexandria had the largest library in the ancient world and its lighthouse was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.’
I have to admit they’re high IQ creatures indeed!
‘What happened to the lighthouse?’ I ask.
‘It was devastated by a series of earthquakes between 796 A.D. and 1323 A.D.’ the first crow informs me.
‘Who built the lighthouse?’
Crow 2 speaks up. ‘Ptolemy I Soter started the construction sometime after he declared himself ruler of Egypt in 305 B.C. You see, Egypt was up for grabs after the death of Alexander the Great in 323 B.C. Years later it was Ptolemy II Philadelphus who completed the gigantic task.’
“Where exactly was the lighthouse located? I haven’t seen any ruins.’
‘The lighthouse was built on the island of Pharos at the western edge of the Nile delta,’ says Crow 1. ‘For many centuries thereafter it remained the tallest man-made structure on earth. In 1480 Sultan Qaitbay, used the remnant stones to build a medieval fort on the lighthouse site.
‘Is that the citadel of Qaitbay?’
‘Did you see it?’ asks Crow 2.
‘Yes I did’.
‘That’s the one! It’s beautiful isn’t it?’
I nod graciously.
‘Of the seven wonders of the ancient world, only one still stands - the pyramids of Giza,’ Crow 2 informs me. ‘If you travel south along the banks of the Nile you can’t miss them. They’re counted among the seven wonders of the modern world as well.’
‘What happened to the other six wonders?’ I enquire.
Crow 1 comes up with the information. ‘The Colossus of Rhodes, the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Statute of Zeus at Olympia and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were all obliterated by time.’
‘And what about the library of Alexandria? What became of it?’ I ask.
‘It was destroyed by fire. Plutarch says Julius Caesar was the culprit, but no one really seems to know,’ Crow 2 whispers apologetically.
‘What? That’s a real tragedy! How could anyone in his right mind…?’
Crow 1 speaks up. ‘Well, what can we say? We’re so ashamed.’
‘A treasure trove of knowledge was lost to humanity once and for all,’ Crow 2 sighs. ‘You see, some humans can be incredibly stupid.’
‘Thank heavens the majority are sensible!’ her sister exclaims. Then looking at me with undisguised curiosity she asks, ‘Where are you from, brother?’
‘I come from Yemen.’
‘In the Arabian peninsula?’
‘That’s right. So you know your geography as well! Do you migrate?’
‘No, never! When we were born in such a perfect location, why would we go anywhere else?’ she wonders.
‘Sometimes we fly up to Cairo to gawk at the foreign tourists, that’s all.’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘That way we see and hear and learn a great deal,’ Crow 1 explains. ‘Humans are very clever, you know.’
‘And Cairo attracts humans from every corner of the globe,’ Crow 2 gushes. ‘There are white ones and black ones and even brown and yellow ones. Their eyes and hair have different colours as well. They’re so fascinating!’
Soon we’re joined by more crows. And more cows. And more crows. They all gaze at me in open admiration and my chest swells with pride. I may be old and jaded but to these highly intelligent and singularly unattractive birds, I’m a noteworthy specimen of creation. My self-esteem skyrockets.
The conversation grows animated. Everyone speaks at once. Words fly in every direction. I lose track of who’s saying what.
‘Egypt is a country that beats description.’
‘Have you seen the mummies? The golden sarcophagus of Tutankhamon? The obelisks?’
‘We’re man’s best friend. We keep his surroundings spruced up.’
‘We eat carrion, thereby cleaning up the environment. We eat all foodstuffs that humans discard.’
‘We’re careful to keep out of their way.’
‘We hold frequent meetings and exchange thoughts, share ideas and make future plans just like humans do.’
‘The cuckoo sometimes lays her eggs in my nest. She thinks she’s being clever, but I know her game. I’m a good mother so I take care of the chicks like my own. I don’t like to harm any creature. It’s my nobility, not my stupidity…’
‘Humans have so many misconceptions about us. They say we have kleptomaniac tendencies - that’s simply not true.’
‘Haven’t you heard the story of a crow picking up a queen’s necklace and depositing it in a snake’s hiding place so that the humans would spot the snake and kill it?’
‘Yes, we can be devious, but we’re not thieves.’
‘Except that we steal nuts from squirrels…..!!’
‘Oh shut up!’
‘Do crows pick up shiny objects?’ I ask cautiously.
‘You mean, do we steal shiny objects?’ a harsh voice cackles.
‘No, we don’t steal,’ says another. ‘The little ones are very curious. They like to pick up small objects and hide them. They may be attracted to shiny things, like keys or coins.’
‘We hide only one object in one location. For different things, we find different hiding places. That way, we reduce the probability of losing everything at one go.’
‘You don’t put all your eggs in one basket, right?’
‘Exactly!’
A loud crash is heard, followed by frantic squawking and fluttering of wings. I bolt in the direction of the water’s edge and run for some distance along the shoreline. My hooves get damp but I enjoy the coolness of the water.
Stopping at a safe distance, I turn and look back. The jarring sound of sirens fills the air and police vehicles are milling around. There’s been an accident of sorts.
I must take a look. I edge closer, slowly and cautiously. Horror of horrors! Two cars are entangled in a bloody mess. Broken glass is scattered all around. A pool of fresh blood stains the road. A mangled body is being pulled out through a broken window. It looks like that of a child. I shudder at the sight and quickly avert my gaze.
I walk back to the beach and settle down in the shade of a tree. The crows quickly rejoin me. They seem unaffected by what they’d seen.
‘These things happen every day,’ one of them says casually.
‘There are too many humans in this country anyway.’
‘They don’t deserve any sympathy. After all they’re themselves responsible for the accident.’
‘Nature designed them to walk on two legs but they want to go around in fancy vehicles.’
‘They even have flying vehicles that
can travel faster than birds. They call them airplanes.’
‘Oh, look! There comes a helicopter!’
‘What on earth is that?’
‘Well, it’s a bit like a bird, you know. Only its wings are on the top of its head. And it makes a nasty whirring sound….’
I keep quiet and listen. These birds are really spectacular. Back home in Yemen, I had marveled at the loquaciousness of the parrot and the sheer beauty of the peacock but such intelligence in a bird was something I’d never expected.
My master had often used the word ‘bird brained’ when he chose to shower verbal abuse on his ageing wife, Fatima, who had never been to school and was a bit of a dimwit. I guess I’m not really being fair in my assessment of Fatima. Come to think of it, the other two wives weren’t very clever either. Rahman’s children were smart though. Perhaps that was because they went to school every day except Friday.
‘Do you know the Hawaiian crow is extinct in the wild?’
I turn my head abruptly in the direction of the voice. Was the question aimed at me?
Someone else replies. ‘Yes, there are only a few dozen individuals left in human custody. They’ve tried reintroducing captive bred birds in the wild, but these are preyed upon by the Hawaiian hawk, which also is a near threatened species.’
‘That’s what I call a no-win situation!’
‘But on the whole we crows are an abundant species, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, of course. And we’re superbly intelligent too.’
‘We’re capable of tool use and tool manufacture, a skill possessed by few animals on this planet.’
‘Our cousins, the jackdaws and magpies are pretty ingenious too.’
‘What’s the difference between a crow and a raven?’ I ask no one in particular.
Replies are showered at me from all directions, much to my surprise.
‘The raven is all black. As you can see we have a black and grey pattern.’
‘We may be ugly but ravens are uglier.’
‘Ravens are bigger than we are and can do somersaults in the air. And they make different sounds too. A deep reverberating gronk-gronk sound is more typical of them, whereas we make the familiar caw-caw sound.’
‘We crows also imitate human voices, respond to calls of other bird species, and have a wide repertoire of rattles, clicks, and even bell-like notes. It’s a language we call kakalaka.’
‘We can hear sound frequencies lower than those audible to humans. That’s why humans have been largely unsuccessful in understanding our vocalizations.’
‘But we have no difficulty in understanding them, no matter what languages and dialects they speak!’
‘We’re high IQ birds, remember!’
‘But humans have high IQ too! They’re supposed to be the most intelligent creatures that Allah ever made.’
I smile to myself. Horses are intelligent too, I remind myself. After all I can understand both crows and humans.
‘What can crows do that other birds cannot do?’ I ask.
‘Bait-fishing for example,’ explains a wise elder. ‘I hear that wild hooded crows in Israel use bread crumbs for bait-fishing. They drop the bread crumbs and anticipate the catch.’
‘Wow! That’s a revelation!’
‘We indulge in sports and cooperative ventures. We figure out ways to avoid cats and dogs, not to mention humans.’
‘We have innovative techniques for cooperative breeding, brood reduction, sibling assistance, urban-rural dispersal, caching of food and so on.’
‘We make long-term pair bonds and family bonds, just like humans do.’
‘We can count, distinguish complex shapes, and perform observational learning tasks.’
‘Creative thinking is the hallmark of intelligence, isn’t it?’
‘Our social behaviors are complex too, but humans don’t seem to realize this. We act in concert to perform complex tasks such as theft. We even employ lookouts and decoys during these operations.’
‘Ssh! Don’t reveal our trade secrets!’
I smile to myself. Some smart Alec had unwittingly disclosed the thieving habits of the community. Others realize this faux pas and hurriedly try to change the subject.
‘During the nesting season, when the females sit on the eggs all day, the males and the helpers bring them food. Since water is hard to bring, we often dunk dry foods in water and take the moistened food to the nest.’
‘We engage in mid-air jousting to establish the pecking order.’
I add my own little piece of information. ‘I hear the New Caledonian Crow has been intensely studied because of its ability to use tools in its daily quest for food.’
‘Really? How does it do that?’
‘It fashions knives from leaves and stalks of grass.’
‘Wow! We’ve never done that!’
‘That’s not all,’ I tell them. ‘It drops nuts, clams, mussels and shells on to the roads near a traffic signal and waits for a passing car to run them over. Then it picks up the pieces to eat.’
This triggers off yet another cacophony. ‘Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!’
I wait for the exclamations to subside before continuing, ‘It makes hooks out of stray bits of wire and uses them to fish grubs out of their hiding places.’
‘Where’s New Caledonia?’ asks one of the crows. ‘In the Mediterranean?’
‘No, it’s an island group in the South Pacific, lying east of Australia. The native peoples used to practice cannibalism before the arrival of the Europeans.’
‘Really?’
Now the crows are all ears.
‘Yeah!’ I confirm. ‘In 1849, the crew of an American ship was killed and eaten by the locals.’ The crows seem to like this piece of corroborative information.
‘Have you been to New Caledonia?’ a sub adult bird asks eagerly.
I neigh loudly, mimicking human laughter. ‘Of course not! Horses can’t fly you know! We can only visit islands if humans take us along in their ships.’
‘The how do you know about the New Caledonia crows?’
‘I heard my master, Abdul Rahman, tell his children about them. He tells them stories every night before they go to sleep. Sometimes his young wife Zarina listens to the stories too. She’s only twenty.’
‘How does your master know so much?’
‘He’s well read and widely travelled. And he has an incredible memory.’
Enjoying the attention, I continue. ‘Do you know crows evolved in Central Asia and then spread to North America, Africa, Europe and Australia?’
They shake their heads to say ‘no’.
The cacophony has ended and I’m rather enjoying the silence, interrupted only by my own voice and a few caw-caw questions.
‘Many crow species have become extinct after human colonization, especially on island groups such as New Zealand, Hawaii and Greenland,’ I tell them.
Then I continue in earnest. ‘Humans sometimes keep crows as pets. The oldest captive crow lived to the ripe old age of 59.’
There is a collective gasp from the audience.
‘Gosh! We hardly manage to survive 20 years!’
‘That’s because life in the wild is difficult, I guess. When we’re protected by humans, life is much easier but less exciting,’ I explain.
A shadow crosses my face as I recall my own bittersweet experiences. Images and recollections from the past come flooding into my mind. I feel the waves of nostalgia take hold of me as I’m transported to a bygone era. It’s only a few months since I left home, and yet it feels like a lifetime.
‘Oh look at that shiny bald head!’
‘Shall I give it a tiny peck?’
A loud cackle ensues.
‘Ouch!’ A loud shriek emanates from an urchin nearby. One of the crows had pecked a biscuit out of his hand. He gesticulates in anger, then wails loudly.
I feel sorry for the little boy. His disheveled appearance suggests he�
�s really poor and destitute. He can’t be more than eight years old.
‘Why didn’t you snatch the shawarma from that fat man down the road instead?’ another crow chides the one who played truant. ‘The poor boy looks really hungry.’
‘Now it’s too late,’ the naughty crow replies.
In an instant another crow swoops down on the fat man and relieves him of his meaty meal. The man utters a curse in Arabic, picks up a stone and throws it at another crow. The stone doesn’t find it mark and all the crows croak in chorus.
The man looks disgusted and walks away. Finding a food stall by the side of the road he buys another shawarma. The next crow gets ready to pounce.
I keep watching the spectacle. The sun is setting now, and the sky is an amazing blend of orange and gold patterns. The sea is a shimmering dark green. I’ll need to find a place to rest tonight. Tomorrow I shall follow the Nile and find my way to Cairo.
All of a sudden there is a flurry of activity. My avian friends are cawing, chasing and fighting. Soon they will find a place to roost. Roosting is a communal sleeping ritual followed by several bird species. They join together in large flocks on treetops to spend the night.
I know crows are afraid of owls. Perhaps they find safety in numbers. Rahman had once told the children that a roost in Fort Cobb in Oklahoma consisted of more than two million crows.
Crows usually live in large extended family groups. Intra family fights are brief and may involve only a few pecks. But fights between members of different families can be vicious and prolonged.
‘Tell us about crows in other parts of the world,’ a little crow asks me.
‘The American crow is highly vulnerable to the West Nile virus that was recently introduced to the country. There was a 45% drop in their population following this. In India, crows are revered by Hindus, and during funeral rites known as ‘shraddha’ the offering of rice balls or ‘pinda’ to crows forms the highlight of the ceremony.’
I realize I’m rambling. I’m really, really tired. And eager to sleep. I close my eyes and take a nap. I sleep in a standing position, ever alert, ever ready to bolt. I have few enemies and I know I have nothing to fear. Yet it pays to be careful. I’ve heard Rahman say this to his wives over and over again.
When I open my eyes there are no crows to be seen. The sea is a translucent blue. A cool breeze blows gently through the trees.
Time to move south, I tell myself. I’m eager to behold the sphinx and the pyramids. Looking up at the morning sun, I carefully choose my direction.
