I’ve been feeding crows for more than a dozen years. They’re interesting creatures, ones who’ll attack eagles in the sky yet race away from starlings as the small birds protect their nests. Crows are clever birds, and can use simple tools to complete tasks. They even have a unique flock name: murder.
When it comes to crows, people either love ‘em or hate ‘em. The haters usually dislike the large black birds because too many times they’ve looked out to find their garbage ripped apart and strewn about by the scavengers. I’ve never been one of those victims and probably never will be since my crows know where their feeding ground is and because I never throw away any type of food in the garbage. If it can’t be fed to the chickens and can’t be composted, I throw it to the crows.
Bologna, wieners, pasta, cake, dried cookies…you name it; they get it. It’s a great way to dispose of food instead of putting it in the garbage. My crows are usually at the feeding ground as soon as they see me approach with my offering. They call in their friends and family to share in the feast.