Carol

As Dr. Townsend said in the summary of her research, inbred crows can have shortened lifespans and can be found to have died from disease more than non-inbred birds.  This seems that it could be detrimental to crows and their numbers as a whole, and in some areas, it might be.  But knowing their great numbers and their widespread range and the fact that this a really only a 17% phenomenon, perhaps the flip side of this practice is that it is a tool to help control population in the long-run.  Not that the birds are thinking that way, of course. They want their offspring to be successful.  Just a thought. As for extra-pair fertilization among birds, it doesn't really surprise me.  I used to care for a large flock of wild mallards and mating season was an eye-opener for me.  I often saw a female and a male cooperatively raising the ducklings. Granted, to my uneducated eyes, it seemed that the female was doing most of the work, shepherding, scolding, protecting. But the dedicated male was always behind them, helping to round up the slower babies, keeping an eye out for other ducks who might prey on the young.  But during the breeding season, even though there was obviously a dedicated pair, other groups of males (I assumed they were bachelors)  would often swoop in and mate with a very unwilling female, while the dedicated male protested from the side or tried to chase the invader(s) off.  It's obvious that out of a nest of 14 eggs, some of them had to be fertilized by different fathers.  And if that happens in the duck world, it must happen with other birds, though not as noisily and therefore obviously.

I live in Lexington, KY., and starting in mid-July, I can go out about 8 p.m. and watch a stream of hundreds of crows emerge from a far point on the horizon and fly in a straight line overhead, disappearing over the opposite horizon, west to east. I've counted more than 200 on that particular sky highway. That's earlier in the year than this module indicates, but it's held true for the last two summers. They may have been doing this longer, but I only noticed them in 2020.  This summer, they made their pre-roost and roost in the tops of neighborhood deciduous trees, rather than flying farther away.  I know that many of them spent the night in those trees, because I could hear them leaving about 5 a.m. the next morning.  This fall I've noticed that they seem to have moved on to roosting in a nearby Kroger's parking lot. I was leaving the store one evening when the noise made me look up. Hundreds of birds were grouping in three deciduous trees along the border of the lot.  I stopped and took it all in. They were chattering and moving around. I pictured them saying, "Is this seat taken?" "Sorry, I'm holding this branch for Harry, but how are the kids?."  Point: I was the ONLY person in that parking lot looking up at the birds. No one even glanced their way, which I can't understand considering the cacophony they created.  I'm working on my master naturalist certificate now, with the hopes that maybe I can help people to stop and notice all the fascinating things that are going on around them. It breaks my heart that they're missing marvels like this. But I digress. They may be choosing those spots to roost because of the surrounding street/parking lot lights. Both areas are fairly well-lit. I doubt if there would be much food there, unless Kroger is leaving some of their waste uncovered.  And the birds don't seem to dwell in the neighborhood after the sun comes up. As for the thoughts that come to mind when I see them stream into their roosts or pre-roosts?  Joy. It's just that simple. I marvel at that awesome line of birds streaming from a far point on the horizon to an equally far point on the opposite horizon. Something beyond what I'm capable of is guiding them, whether it be a desire for community, or an innate need for safety in numbers.  One night about a month ago in early October, I stood and watched them stream overhead (don't look up with an open mouth!) and was fascinated by one bird in particular.  A helicopter crow, I thought.  He/she was acting like a social director.  Visiting others in the flock, actually staying in one place vertically in the air, flapping wings in a flurry to accomplish the feat.  I've never seen anything like that.  He/she darted back and forth, would find a particular face he recognized, or maybe didn't, and would stop upright in front of that bird. They'd chat for a second, and then off he would go to do the same thing with someone farther back in the flock.  I could have watched that for hours, but eventually even he went over the horizon.  (They were heading in the Kroger direction that night.) Yesterday (mid-November) I was driving through the Kroger parking lot when I noticed a car parked below the trees where I had seen the crows roosting in September, and realized they're still roosting there.  That car, which had obviously been left in the lot overnight, was COVERED with huge splats of bird poop.  That was no starling poop. Someone was not going to be happy.   Tip to self: do not leave car parked under trees at night.