Interview with a crow

Spring being the season of sap rising and nest building, the crows have returned to Tokyo. The city, though, deems the crow population overlarge and unruly -- 30,000 in central Tokyo park's and residential areas, and 100,000 in the greater metropolitan area. Some country cousins, it seems, even fly in from 50 kilometers away.

Once trusted and revered, crows now are scorned like unwanted guests who won't leave of their own accord. This spring again, the municipal government has ordered draconian, xenophobic steps -- the removal of nests, chicks, and the destruction of crow eggs..

Curious to hear first-hand from those most concerned, I got myself down to Meiji Shrine, where, at latest tally, almost 10,000 crows have taken residence. I headed for the "hana shobu" irises to bask in limpid colors and to inquire as to reactions among the mothers and fathers.

Seated on a bench under a leafy bough, I was gazing on a large expanse of iris purples, blues, mauves, and whites, and had translated several flower names -- Drunken Beauty, Monkey Dance, Black Cloud, Dragons Claws -- when I heard a low swoosh as a crow landed within polite speaking distance.

Tilting his coal black head to one side, the bird let his gaze linger on the bloom.

"We were once loved and admired as much as these lovely blossoms" he said more to himself than to me. "Children once used to sing to us at sunset, trusting us to help them get home from school" he added as if in reverie.

He turned a black bright inquisitive eye on me, "I prefer the violet shading of Drunken Beauty, myself. Though last year I was partial to Black Cloud." He paused as if to gather his thoughts.

"Ah..." he sighed, "the fickleness of taste."

I nodded, then asked him what he thought of the city's plans for his home and children.

"It's brutal treatment, really," he said hopping closer. "Last year, all told, 83 of our chicks were 'removed.' We have learned to live with that loss."

He took two waddling steps back then cocked his black eye up, past my shoulder.

"The acacia tree you sit under hummed two weeks ago with bees gathering nectar."

I twisted my head, too, to glance up over my shoulder, remembering the fragrant air.

"Bother them," he continued "and a stinging swarm of winged devils is upon you, but bees are viewed benevolent. We hide no sting. We only want to share in the bounty that city life provides."

I explained that once while bicycling I had been attacked by a crow. Swooping low from a branch, the bird had clawed my head drawing blood. And that other innocents are loudly cawed at or hectored while walking dogs.

"There is a certain unsavory element among us, I admit -- as there is among any healthy, vibrant population. Such ruffians are sternly admonished. Please accept my apologies." He tilted his head cordially.

I added that last year no crow attacks were reported in the areas of the purge.

"Hmmm. The 'purge...' " he mused. "Your herd doesn't frighten us much. We thought it merely prudent to relocate."

He looked at me hard for a moment then continued, "Your city fathers also had Shinjuku and other stations cleared of men who live by wits and luck under cardboard boxes or blue plastic tarps. They were deemed 'an annoyance' and their nests removed. But still they persist in parks across the city."

I conceded he was right about Tokyo's homeless. Then I asked him but why the city? Why not stay in the provinces?

"Come, come," he looked at me with one black eye then the other, "the answer's obvious." He looked about at the irises, the water lilies, the Kiyomasa spring with its gushing fresh water, the large grassy areas which overflow with food left by visitors everyday, especially weekends.

"You make it easy. We're no dodo's, you know. Are you aware, for example, wedding banquets toss out almost 25% of the food prepared? Households throw out almost 8% of their food, and restaurants 5% of their meals? We know the where and the when.

"Once you get used to city life, nothing beats it. The parks, the sculpture, the culture. Can you imagine a bird's eye view of the shenanigans in Kabuki-cho? Much less Nagatacho? We, too, choose life in the city with all its dangers and its joys." He shrugged.

Who could blame him?

He spread his wings and lifted black and silent over the expanse of purple and blue blossoms, disappearing into the trees like a dark secret.

--mjk