Tell Me About Corvids
A short missive on the cusp of a windy assignation
Happy Feels Like Friday!
And a warm welcome from the Tower.
Tomorrow, at dawn, I drive west to Dartmoor. The weather forecast for my long-awaited, much-postponed three day Hill and Moorland Leader assessment is suboptimal.
Heavy rain and a moderate breeze. Heavy rain and a fresh breeze. Strong winds and heavy rain.
At least I’m not camping.
For those of you new around these parts, welcome 👋 My name is David and I’m a writer, outdoor instructor, cyclist-at-large with Thighs of Steel and Expeditions Manager at British Exploring Society.
In this newsletter, I write stories that help you and me understand the world (and ourselves) a little better.
Sometimes I venture out in bad weather.
Tell Me About Corvids
Corvids are smart birds with a brain to body mass ratio the same as great apes and dolphins.
They pass the mirror test for self-awareness and they not only use tools, but construct them too.
They are effortlessly manipulative.
Ravens collaborate with wolves to take down prey. They sometimes babysit the wolf cubs. One theory behind why wolves hunt in packs is so that the ravens don’t eat more than their share of the kill.
The ravens, in other words, are in charge.
Despite the fact that there are 139 different species of corvid, for all intents and purposes, they look and sound EXACTLY THE SAME.
Unless, that is, you make your own quick and dirty cheat sheet like mine:
Ravens are chunky — as big as red kites, although with a shorter wingspan — with a diamond-shaped tail and a range of Barry White pitched calls.
Crows are solitary (except when they’re not), noisy — repetitive caa-caa — with a fan-shaped tail and moustaches on their beaks.
Rooks are sociable, dishevelled, with a purple sheen and fluffy trousers. Softer voices.
Jackdaws are small with beady little eyes, a grey hood and a black cap. They call their name — ‘chack-tyaw’.
Magpies are black and white with a purply-blue sheen in sunlight. Their call is a death rattle. …Eleven for health, Twelve for wealth, Thirteen — beware! — it’s the devil himself.
Choughs have red legs and beaks. Only found in the far west.
Jays dress to impress, the dandies of the corvid parade. Still smart as anything — and aggressive too.
‘Tell me about corvids’ is the sort of question I’ll be asked over the next three days as I undertake my Hill and Moorland Leader assessment on Dartmoor.
Other questions include: ‘What do you do if a rucksack strap breaks mid-walk?’, ‘Can you use the aspect of slope and a bearing to aim off the attack point to the trig?’ and ‘Sorry to interrupt your fascinating disquisition on crows, but why are you leading us over that precipice?’
Wish me luck.
Three Tiny Big Things
1. Why we can’t stand feeling bored
Nearly half of participants sitting alone in a room for 15 minutes, with no stimulation other than a button that would administer a mild electric shock, pressed the button.
2. If your boss asks for loyalty, give him integrity
Introducing Boyd’s Razor from Venkatesh Rao:
If your boss asks for loyalty, give him integrity. If your boss asks for integrity, give him loyalty.
3. My Final Days on the Maine Coast
Diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, a Joseph Monninger meditates on life, death, and beauty from his small seaside cottage down east.
Gosh this is lovely. Published posthumusly.
Thank You
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As always, thank you for your eyeballs and thanks for your support.
diwyc,
dc:
Good luck, and loved the article from the old man in Maine ❤️
I like corvids too 🖤 good luck with your thingywotsit in the winds and rains!