Bird Mobbing Behavior
I recently spent the night at a friend’s in a suburban neighborhood that is a ‘bedroom’ community for NYC. It was 9 am when I got up, and my hosts and all their neighbors and children, had already left their homes for work and school. As I poured my coffee, I glanced out of her kitchen window- which looked directly down the middle of her street. It was a cul-de-sac, so there was no passing traffic, and since everyone had left, it was very quiet. The garbage cans were set out neatly at the ends of the driveways for pick up and not a person could be seen.
But my attention was caught by a lone crow standing defiantly in the middle of the street, about fifty yards away, periodically slashing out his wings and cawing loudly, as a couple small birds swept in from different angles and then peeled sharply away. It was the only thing happening on the block, so I settled down to watch.
I couldn’t understand why the crow was so steadfastly standing his ground in the middle of the road against the determined attacks of these two much smaller birds! They probably had a new nest nearby, so that would explain their loud and persistent attacks against this predator. But why was the crow remaining in the middle of the road?
But my attention was caught by a lone crow standing defiantly in the middle of the street, about fifty yards away, periodically slashing out his wings and cawing loudly, as a couple small birds swept in from different angles and then peeled sharply away. It was the only thing happening on the block, so I settled down to watch.
I couldn’t understand why the crow was so steadfastly standing his ground in the middle of the road against the determined attacks of these two much smaller birds! They probably had a new nest nearby, so that would explain their loud and persistent attacks against this predator. But why was the crow remaining in the middle of the road?
Slowly, as I watched, it became more clear. With each dive bombing attack by the two birds, the solitary crow, would lunge at his attacker and land slightly closer to a garbage can to one side of the road. He could clearly smell something in the black plastic garbage bags bulging from the top that he wanted. This dance continued until the crow had almost made it to the garbage can. At this point, the continuous alarm cries of the first pair (they were too far away for me to identify), had rallied another pair from the neighborhood, who joined the attack! This drove the crow away from the can all the way across the street, as he fought them off from the ground. They were now out of my sight, so I moved to a window on the second floor to watch the rest of the drama.
The crow must have either been very hungry or really wanted what was in the garbage. Despite now facing four dive bombers, he fought his way back across the ground to the base of the can. He had a fighting chance while he was on the ground, as the attackers would have to peel away before their claws could hit his head, to avoid crashing into the ground and becoming his next meal. He seemed to know this. When he reached the base of the can, there seemed to be a few moments where he was assessing the risks, looking around.
And then he jumped/flew onto the top bag and began to tear at the bags. His attackers now had a much better angle of attack, as they could fly past his body- hit him, and recover before hitting the ground. Desperate to get what was in the bag, he mostly flinched away or bared his beak to the attacks. Ultimately, he had only a couple minutes to find his treasure. The 'ripple' of alarm calls that we described in an earlier post (see post of July 2015) that carry messages for great distances, appeared to work in even this noisy suburban environment. Within another couple minutes, another couple came streaming in from different directions and together they knocked the crow off the garbage can.
The crow must have either been very hungry or really wanted what was in the garbage. Despite now facing four dive bombers, he fought his way back across the ground to the base of the can. He had a fighting chance while he was on the ground, as the attackers would have to peel away before their claws could hit his head, to avoid crashing into the ground and becoming his next meal. He seemed to know this. When he reached the base of the can, there seemed to be a few moments where he was assessing the risks, looking around.
And then he jumped/flew onto the top bag and began to tear at the bags. His attackers now had a much better angle of attack, as they could fly past his body- hit him, and recover before hitting the ground. Desperate to get what was in the bag, he mostly flinched away or bared his beak to the attacks. Ultimately, he had only a couple minutes to find his treasure. The 'ripple' of alarm calls that we described in an earlier post (see post of July 2015) that carry messages for great distances, appeared to work in even this noisy suburban environment. Within another couple minutes, another couple came streaming in from different directions and together they knocked the crow off the garbage can.
As he defended himself on the ground , another couple came rocketing in from another direction.
He was now in a desperate situation. On the ground, faced with eight relentless attackers, with no other crow allies (most crows will be in at least a partnership or a group, (so this may have been an immature male or female), he cannot defend himself. He hopped and defended himself all the way across the street to underneath a bush, where he took refuge.
The street, like most suburban streets, is lined with open lawns at the curbs, then houses and trees or higher vegetation in the back. The crow clearly was analysing his escape route. The garbage can side gave no higher ground, but across the street- where he now huddled under sheltering forsythia branches, the houses gave roof lines leading up to high trees.
When there was a break in the attacks, the crow launched himself onto a garage roof near the bush and was immediately attacked. From there he fought his way onto the second floor roof of the same house, and then to the third floor roof of the next house. From there, he had a clear shot into the 50 foot tall trees that backed up to the houses. When his attackers slowed down, he launched himself through an opening in those branches and escaped. After that, the alarm calls in the neighborhood disappeared. It became very still again.
He was now in a desperate situation. On the ground, faced with eight relentless attackers, with no other crow allies (most crows will be in at least a partnership or a group, (so this may have been an immature male or female), he cannot defend himself. He hopped and defended himself all the way across the street to underneath a bush, where he took refuge.
The street, like most suburban streets, is lined with open lawns at the curbs, then houses and trees or higher vegetation in the back. The crow clearly was analysing his escape route. The garbage can side gave no higher ground, but across the street- where he now huddled under sheltering forsythia branches, the houses gave roof lines leading up to high trees.
When there was a break in the attacks, the crow launched himself onto a garage roof near the bush and was immediately attacked. From there he fought his way onto the second floor roof of the same house, and then to the third floor roof of the next house. From there, he had a clear shot into the 50 foot tall trees that backed up to the houses. When his attackers slowed down, he launched himself through an opening in those branches and escaped. After that, the alarm calls in the neighborhood disappeared. It became very still again.
This kind of behavior happens all the time around us. We just have to watch for these little dramas to play out in the landscape. If you think back to times when you observed a hawk or other raptor in the sky, you may recall it being followed by one or two smaller birds that were flitting erratically about it. If the hawk is attempting to fly straight and level, it is probably transiting the area and the smaller birds may be a nesting pair that are harassing it to keep moving out of the area for the safety of their fledglings. (Smaller birds are more agile than than the bigger predators, but they can’t compete if they get too far from cover).
Around our house, we have always had breeding red-tailed hawks. Without looking up, I always know when they have arrived on their hunting patrols, as there is a sudden chorus of sqweeks, ‘chirrs’, clicks and screeches, as the small birds, squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits alert the neighborhood that there is danger above. Red-tailed hawks often hunt by stooping (diving from a great height, like a peregrine falcon) to hit their prey.
Around our house, we have always had breeding red-tailed hawks. Without looking up, I always know when they have arrived on their hunting patrols, as there is a sudden chorus of sqweeks, ‘chirrs’, clicks and screeches, as the small birds, squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits alert the neighborhood that there is danger above. Red-tailed hawks often hunt by stooping (diving from a great height, like a peregrine falcon) to hit their prey.
One day, I was watching as a red-tailed hawk rode the late morning thermals in lazy circles, high into the sky above the field below our house. It was like she was riding an elevator up, and she was expending little effort to reach several hundred feet in the air. She was being harassed on her ascent by small birds, that would duck out from the tree lines surrounding the field, in hit-and-run attacks, until she got so high that the smaller birds didn’t want to venture too far from the nearby safety of the trees. As she loitered above in drifting circles, the hawk was scanning the field below for small rodents or perched birds. Occasionally she would appear to start an attack dive, only to be veered off her course by a smaller bird that would dart out from the trees to spoil her trajectory. The neighborhood was too vigilante, and after awhile she left empty-taloned.
But as I relaxed reading a book by our pond overlooking the field, she returned a couple hours later. Perhaps the neighborhood watch group were all home digesting their lunches. This time she wheeled slowly overhead with no interference. After some time, she suddenly seemed to try to stall herself in mid-air for a moment, and then tucked her wings and from several hundred feet in the air, accelerated into a blisteringly fast stoop. Just about twenty feet above the hay I saw her streaking form collide with what instantly turned into an explosion of feathers. I saw the form of a morning dove tumble into the hay as the hawk flared to a landing several yards away. She soon re-emerged from the hay hauling the dead dove into the sky. I was comforted by the fact the the dove never knew what hit him.
The force of the blow was like being hit by a speeding truck on a highway, stunning it unconscious or killing it outright. Nature is never dull.
When my host returned after work, she apologised that the neighborhood was so quiet. I told her not to worry. We could see many things from her house.
The force of the blow was like being hit by a speeding truck on a highway, stunning it unconscious or killing it outright. Nature is never dull.
When my host returned after work, she apologised that the neighborhood was so quiet. I told her not to worry. We could see many things from her house.
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