Crows (and corvids in general) can be pretty divisive. I don’t think I’ve met someone who can just take or leave them — it’s always either a fervent love, or a deep dislike.

And I get it, honestly. They’re noisy. They’ve been known to eat nestlings, eggs, and small mammals. To many, they’re a nuisance and they don’t understand why anyone would go out of their way to make their yard more attractive to these birds.

Ever since we moved here, I’ve been feeding a small family of crows whom I’ve come to love dearly. I’ve hesitated to feed other species, because I don’t want to encourage them to congregate (and potentially spread avian flu) when that isn’t their normal feeding pattern. While the debate about feeding birds and crow/raven behavior will likely never come to an end, here are a couple of things I’ve personally observed when making an effort to coexist with crows:

They’re very smart. (Like, really smart.)

With most members of corvidae, you’re dealing with a very intelligent animal. With crows specifically, something on the level of a toddler or a very bright dog.

I wanted to mention this right off the bat because it heavily impacts a lot of my other points.

They’re also opportunistic.

In general, crows aren’t really hunter hunters. They do eat meat, and they will eat young, weak, or sick animals, but they’re opportunistic feeders. If the opportunity isn’t there, or there’s an easier source of high-value food somewhere else, they’ll go elsewhere.

Crows are also a prey species for larger carnivores. When they’re eating, they’re vulnerable because their attention is directed toward that and not toward looking for threats. This is why groups typically have a sentry or two, to keep an eye on things while the others feed.

They’re also still wild animals, no matter how closely they may coexist with humans. Wild animals will go for easier-to-get food sources whenever possible, because more challenging ones a) aren’t guaranteed, and b) require more effort (read: calories) and attention to access. The exception to this seems to be when there’s a particularly appealing, usually calorie-dense food item available that’ll make up for the potential danger and extra effort expended to get it.

You can direct their behavior.

With the above things in mind, you can direct their behavior to a degree.

I’ll give you an example. When I worked in pet retail, I had customers that’d come in and complain that squirrels and large birds that kept getting into their bird feeders. We had tons of anti-squirrel technology available — baffles, special lubricants for poles, specially shaped feeders, and even battery powered ones that vibrated, spun, or did all kinds of other gymnastics. I’d gently try to guide these customers to dedicated platform feeders and bags of corn, but they always turned it down.
No matter what they bought, they’d be back in a few weeks for something else. A greased pole was no longer enough, because the squirrel learned how to jump from a tree at just the right angle to defeat it. A specially shaped feeder wasn’t enough, because the crows would team up to work around it.
The cycle would inevitably repeat, until they finally just gave up and bought the platform feeder and the bag of corn. After that, the squirrels and large birds would eat the easy to access food, and the smaller birds had their own.

Since this crow population was already established here (and has since grown due to habitat destruction caused by some recent construction), giving them high-value, easy to access food has ensured that I get to keep more of the fruit and vegetables from my garden. This isn’t just because the crows don’t take as much, either — they’ve also done quite a bit to keep various garden pests away.

I don’t leave their food unattended — I usually feed them items I know they like, then sit out there just a few feet away with my own lunch. I have never once been harassed for my food. I’m pretty sure it’s because, like other intelligent animals, they’re able to distinguish between what food is given to them and what food is mine. Why bother me to eat off of my plate, when their plates are right over there? Why run the risk of a potential conflict with a human when they have accessible, desirable food already?

They might not impact songbird populations in the way most people think.

This study covers the relationship between various predator and prey species. One of its findings is that, as prey species numbers increase, so do predator species numbers, and there isn’t strong evidence that native (non-invasive) predators alone drive species decline.

A single predator, or small group of predators, can impact local numbers of prey animals, but don’t appear to correlate with a decline in overall numbers. The thing here is that crows are, like I said, opportunistic. They take prey from nests, where other predators are more likely to be less discriminating and take reproductively mature animals (since those are the ones they’re most likely to encounter out and about). Many corvids are also very territorial — an established family of crows will actively drive off other, larger, less opportunistic predators. They appear to exert both a predatory and protective influence on local prey species.

They shouldn’t be fed every day.

While I offer food for the local birds and squirrels, I’m careful not to do it every day. (Water, on the other hand, is always available.) Nobody goes hungry, and there seems to be less impetus for them to eat what I’m growing or trying to protect, but they still need to engage in natural foraging behavior.

This works in my case because this crow family had already established this area as their territory. If you listen to their calls, you can hear them relaying from one tree to the next. While they’ll cover a lot of ground in order to find food and water, a sentry alerts the others when there are snacks available. They can go about their business and stop by when there’s food.

(One funny thing I’ve noticed is that their vocalizations change when I’m on the deck, whether I’m putting food out or not, like they’re telling everyone that it’s almost time to eat. Once, I was only watering a few plants and went right back inside, and I got to hear a very excited crow call trail off into something that sounded unmistakably like disappointment.)

They’re not just garbage birds.

Crows (and many other members of corvidae) will get into dumpsters if there’s an opportunity, somewhat rightly earning them the nickname of “garbage chickens.” Stories abound of people feeding them fries, chips, and other very palatable, salty, oily, and largely carbohydrate-based foods. These really aren’t optimal dietary contributions for them, though, and having a positive relationship with your local corvids should mean taking their actual nutritional needs into account.

I explored the foraging habits of crows, plus the diets fed to pet pied crows in captivity as well as crows and ravens at rehabilitation centers. In the end, I came up with a mixture of cat or puppy kibble, cracked corn, raisins, and a low sodium, unfortified cereal as a base. To that, I add hardboiled eggs (cut into quarters, shell attached), dried mealworms or black soldier fly larvae, peanuts (in the shell), and fruit, depending on what I have on hand. Sometimes, if I have the leftover tail end of a loaf of homemade bread, I’ll cut that into cubes and toss it in too. This all seems to work out pretty well — they appear to enjoy it, and they’ve got some of the darkest, shiniest feathers I’ve ever seen on an urban crow.

They may not really react to humans like you might expect.

One thing people bring up often is that crows will get used to humans, which will cause problems.

There are definitely cases of birds, including corvids, losing their fear in areas with frequent, close contact with a variety of people. Anyone who’s ever tried to eat French fries on a boardwalk can probably give you several examples.
(I was almost eaten by a pelican when I was little. It was a defining experience.)

I can’t speak to this in general, but I can point out my own observations as someone dealing with an urban crow population that already has a lot of incidental contact with humans. Like I mentioned above, I also stay out there by the feeders after I fill them. While the family of crows has certainly grown bolder with time, this change in behavior seems to be limited to me. If I’m out there and my Handsome Assistant joins me, their behavior switches gears immediately. They keep their distance, and even make some unique vocalizations. If I’m there with a stranger, the difference is even more stark. As intelligent animals with the capacity to recognize individuals, they seem to have drawn some very firm lines between “human what puts the food,” “other human,” and “some guy, idk.”

One interesting experiment with ravens kind of highlights this. A researcher was teaching a raven to trade, by offering the bird a small piece of cheese (a high-value food item) in exchange for a piece of bread (a lower-value one). At one point, the researcher accepted the raven’s bread, then had the audacity to eat the cheese right in front of them. The raven, understandably pissed, refused to engage in any more trading exercises… but only with that particular researcher.

Sometimes, they just leave (and that can be a good thing).

Animals have their own agenda, though it’s often tempting to see them through a humanized lens. I’ve seen a lot of posts from people asking why their local population of crows just left — do the birds not like them anymore? Did they offend them somehow???

The truth is, wild animals have their own schedule. They likely won’t, don’t need to, and shouldn’t come hang out every day. During summer, when a lot of fruits ripen and grains are harvested, crows are likely to go off to agricultural areas to eat the dropped grain. They also have babies, so they’ll be off doing parent activities. In winter, they may need to go to a more desirable climate or more abundant food and water source. If the larger murder of crows is going off to do something, a given crow family will go with them.

If they stop showing up for a while, it can honestly be a good sign because it means they’re still being wild birds. It might suck if larger carnivores move in and start causing trouble in their absence, but that’s nature for you.

On top of all of this stuff, I’ve also noticed some interesting impacts on my hyper-local environment since I began putting food out for these birds:

There actually seems to be more biodiversity now.

In the beginning, I was lucky to get some house sparrows, starlings, and the occasional mourning dove. As time goes on, I’ve begun to see more species. Like, a lot more. Blue jays, cardinals, finches, dark-eyed juncos, woodpeckers, and grackles, to name a few. (Even a mockingbird that has absolutely given the crows a run for their money when it comes to territoriality.)

Part of this may be because there’s more food available, but most of the food I put out consists of things that would appeal to crows and jays, not necessarily other species. I have, however, noticed that the local crows do a lot to keep the smaller birds safe, because…

They will not tolerate nonsense.

I’ve written before about how this family of crows have effectively become my unpaid, unasked-for yard bouncers. In addition to dispatching particularly chaotic squirrels, I’ve seen them bounce bigger predators, too. They’ll get together and mob a hawk (which is honestly fascinating to watch). They’ll chase away stray and feral animals. They’ll even warn me if there’s a particularly suspicious snake in the vicinity. They’ve kept rats, mice, and grubs away, too.
They have very definite ideas about Who Belongs and Who Does Not.

These crows seem like a protection racket. Like a dragon that demands an occasional sacrifice from a local village, or a rat snake that keeps mice and rats out of a chicken coop in exchange for the occasional egg. It’s weird, but I’ve seen them on my deck, coexisting perfectly fine with the smaller birds and other squirrels… So, I guess it’s all chill?

I’ve actually gotten a ton of free food out of the deal.

Granted, a lot of this is because I’m not particularly fussy about garden borders. If something neat springs up, isn’t a noxious weed, and won’t run the risk of poisoning me, I’m inclined to let it be and see what happens.

As it turns out, “what happens” is a ton of volunteer tomatoes, corn, grapes, and berries. (The smaller birds even planted a bunch of millet and broccoli.)

They’ve also brought me occasional small gifts, but I can’t eat those.

When it comes to coexisting with these incredible animals, the important thing to remember is that a) they’re very smart, b) they have the capacity to remember and distinguish between individuals, and c) they’re wild. While it might seem flattering to feel needed and loved like you would with, say, a dog, that’s counterproductive to a wild animal’s survival both physically and mentally. It is possible to interact positively with them without harming their ability to live without you, and this should be the goal of anyone who really loves these birds.