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Ann Arbor's oldest cemetary, Forest Hill, is reknown for its population of over-nighting crows. The annual bird census reports numbers in the thousands. The birds must enjoy the rather dense canopy that covers the old place, as the trees are quite old, and neighbor on the Arboretum. The cemetary also abuts campus directly, and sidewalk evidence of corvine presence is unmistakable, at certain times of the year.
But walking in the chill pre-dawn gloom, and looking up to see murders of crows making their morning exodus away from the headstones, sometimes... sometimes it defies words. To see long, weaving lines of hundreds of black-on-black wings, darker than the sky behind them, streaming westward and northward in distinct flights--if I weren't already freezing, it would take my breath away. The earliest flights are denser, the corvids thickly clustered in their flight; perhaps for warmth, or to not lose sight of their companions. Their direction is singular, at least until the next murder takes to the air, hewing to a subtly different line. Later flights are more leisurely, their members flapping lazily along, diffusing across the sky, often meandering on their way to nearby daytime roosts.
My understanding is that Forest Hill is home to one of the largest rookeries in the state. At least in the winter. I'm certain that the murders are daily scattering to all the cardinal directions, and every one inbetween, but my approach only lets me see a quarter of it all.
But walking in the chill pre-dawn gloom, and looking up to see murders of crows making their morning exodus away from the headstones, sometimes... sometimes it defies words. To see long, weaving lines of hundreds of black-on-black wings, darker than the sky behind them, streaming westward and northward in distinct flights--if I weren't already freezing, it would take my breath away. The earliest flights are denser, the corvids thickly clustered in their flight; perhaps for warmth, or to not lose sight of their companions. Their direction is singular, at least until the next murder takes to the air, hewing to a subtly different line. Later flights are more leisurely, their members flapping lazily along, diffusing across the sky, often meandering on their way to nearby daytime roosts.
My understanding is that Forest Hill is home to one of the largest rookeries in the state. At least in the winter. I'm certain that the murders are daily scattering to all the cardinal directions, and every one inbetween, but my approach only lets me see a quarter of it all.
