Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
At that moment the crow—for that's what it proved to be—flew down into the grass and probed with
its beak for a few seconds. Then it took flight, holding a shiny white golf ball securely in its beak. The
last we saw of the crow, it was disappearing into the distance, the ball still firmly clamped in its beak. It
probably was transporting the intriguing object back to its nest. Along the same lines, I recently found
a golf ball several hundred yards deep in our woods, where it seems likely that another curious crow
dropped it.
At least in this area, crows seem to delight in living around golf courses. No doubt the admixture
of woods, brush, and mowed areas provides good opportunities for nesting and feeding, plus there are
certainly tidbits of human food left here and there as an added attraction. Because of this, we frequently
see crows at close quarters while playing golf, largely because these golf-course crows become quite
tolerant of humans and let us approach them far more closely than is typical.
A number of amusing incidents involving crows and golf have been the result. On one occasion our
older son and I were playing a hole where the fairway adjoins a steep, grassy bank. At the foot of the
slope were two crows, facing each other across a golf ball. First one would pick up the ball and drop
it, and then the other would do the same. This action went on for quite some time, until we eventually
tired of watching it and proceeded with our game. The crows, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying
this activity and were still at it when we departed. How long they continued this unusual behavior is
anyone's guess.
On another day I happened to be playing alone, quite early in the morning. By some miracle, I man-
aged to hit a long, straight drive up the middle of the fairway on the first hole. I hadn't noticed a crow
feeding in that vicinity when I teed off, but the ball landed near it, and the startled crow, with a loud
exclamation, flew up into a nearby tree. I paid no more attention and trudged up the hill toward my
ball. When I arrived at the spot, however, there was no ball to be found, no matter how hard I looked.
Neither was the crow in the tree where I had seen it land. Although I have no proof, I'm certain that the
crow flew back down and made off with my ball.
Most bizarre of all, though, was a golf-course incident that involved crows, or a single crow, but no
golf balls. Our two sons, a friend, and I made up a foursome. All four balls landed on the green, and
just as we walked onto it to begin putting,
plop,
a small pebble less than a half-inch in diameter landed
on the green near us. We looked up to see a crow, only a few feet above our heads, just departing the
scene. We remarked on the incident and commenced putting.
A moment later,
plop,
and the same scene was repeated. A minute or two later,
plop,
and a third
pebble descended. Finally, just as we had completed putting and were walking off the green,
plop,
a
fourth pebble fell near us. It's a mystery whether it was the same crow that dropped all four pebbles or
whether different members of the same family were involved, although I suspect it was the former.
A far greater mystery is why the crow or crows acted in that manner. It's difficult to conceive of any
biological or evolutionary purpose that could possibly be served by this behavior. Anthropomorphism
is exceedingly dangerous, but it's hard to avoid the notion that the crow, or crows, were doing it out of
some sort of pleasurable impulse.
