I was doing a bit of trail work and in the distance there was a ruckus of
crow cursing. When it did not stop I went over to investigate, sneaking in
as best I could. As I arrived close by I flushed a crow which was
surprisingly near the ground in dense brush. A large shape came out of the
shadow of a cedar, a coopers hawk, talons out flying hard at the crow. A
second crow flew down from the cedar and actually stooped on the coop, and
maybe even hit it although it was happening pretty fast and hard to tell.
At any rate this diverted the coop, it sort of flipped around and starting
pumping wings after the second crow which flew into a dense thicket, then
dropped like a rock almost to the ground. The coop perched in the thicket,
using its wings to stay atop the slender branch it was on and starting
making a nikniknik call. The other crow flew in and did sort of an aerial
shudder, cawing like mad. The coopers flew off its perch and I thought it
was going to chase the crow but instead it moved to a more sturdy branch.
It seemed very interested in the crow in the brush and stared intently that
direction The mobile crow returned and perched directly above the coop,
only about a foot above it, and it cawed and cawed and cawed and cawed. I
was almost willing to blow my cover and yell SHUT UP. Finally the crow did
quiet down. After ten more minutes the coop changed focus, and zipped off
after some unseen bird. It turned out that the crow in the brush was
injured, apparently it had been hit by the coop during the chase. It
flopped around getting itself clear of the brush then preened itself,
flexing out one of its wings. The other crow, which I assume was its mate,
hopped down to a nearby branch and made a very interesting noise, one I have
not before heard from a crow, sort of a soft mewing sound. With obvious
difficulty the downed crow tried to fly but could not gain any elevation.
Suddenly the second crow took off right at me, apparently noticing me for
the first time and started yelling at me. I decided to try to recover the
injured crow but as I approached it flailed and flopped around with such a
piteous demeanor that I left it to its fate.

A bit later there was another ruckus. This time I continued my trail work
and the calling suddenly stopped. After about an hour I returned back that
way to find a large pile of black feathers. Then as I continued a short
distance away there was a flopping in the underbrush and I thought it was
the injured crow. Instead it was a crow fledgling. The parent bird flew up
but did not caw, perhaps as to not alert the hawk. It stared me down and I
walked away. Today, I found the remains of the crow and for some reason, I
buried them. I have not done that before, but watching the whole scene
unfold yesterday I felt it was appropriate.

Rob Sandelin
Naturalist, Writer, Teacher
Snohomish County, WA