Those who have experienced an Australian dawn chorus will know just how special our songbirds are. Within the somewhat discordant mix of melodies are many who will no doubt be favourites for Guardian Australia’s 2023 Australian bird of the year. But will the Corvidae family be in the running, even with the Australian raven on the shortlist? Not likely.
The Corvidae includes crows, ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, Eurasian magpies, treepies, choughs (though not the Aussie ones) and nutcrackers. Australia has three native types of raven and two types of crow. Being generalists, Australians tend to call them all “crows”. Telling them apart can be tricky unless you’re close enough to see the base of their feathers – crows have white at the base and ravens have grey – or you’re familiar with the differences in their calls.
As a multidisciplinary digital media artist and writer with an interest in the workings of the natural world, I’ve spent years reading, observing the birds in the field and working them into my artworks. I’m fascinated by what corvids reveal about the complexities of survival and coexistence in a human-formed world, through science and the stories of ancient and contemporary cultures. This work took me across regional New South Wales and northern Iceland in 2018 and 2019, resulting in a series of audio and video works exhibited between 2019 and 2021.
In undertaking my creative research, I was often questioned about my interest in corvids – in this case, Australian ravens and common (European) ravens. Our tense relationship with corvids is centuries old, but western culture has a special kind of grudge against crows. When I was growing up on a farm in north-west NSW, they were considered the enemy for the savage damage they inflicted on newborn livestock. There’s still a generation of people in rural communities whose blood pressure peaks at the sound of that monotone waah.
Australian corvids appear to have thrived in both rural and urban environments for different reasons, but one species in particular has made the city its home. Between 2012 and 2016, Griffith University doctorate candidate Matthew Brown made observations on the Brisbane campus that indicated Torresian crows (Corvus orru) had done something not seen before.
Instead of building a nest in a tree, one pair attempted to build a nest on the ledge of a building, persisting until they finally reared healthy chicks. These birds were making giant adaptive leaps in an effort to exist in a built environment.
In Iceland, the common raven is a symbolically significant bird credited with discovering the island and features heavily in Nordic mythology and traditional beliefs. They’re still common throughout rural Iceland and are considered a pest to the country’s eider duck down industry and agricultural activities such as silage production. However, numbers have plummeted in some areas of the country due to decades of organised control, hunting and the destruction of nests. They’re now considered a vulnerable species and are on the International Union for Conservation of Nature red list for birds at risk of extinction in Iceland.
The dichotomous existence of Brisbane crows and Icelandic ravens – one thriving in a human environment and one under threat – raises questions about how we tip the scales for some species and not others. Corvids have become an indication of the state of our environment. Regardless of how we feel about them, they play an important role in our natural ecosystems. They’re the waste removalists and pest controllers of the natural world.
Our complex relationship with corvids has its roots in Indigenous and ancient cultural connections. The Wiradjuri language has many references to crows and ravens, with some dialectical differences. There are words that sound like the bird’s call – waagan, waan and waah – many of these woven into contemporary placenames. The crow also features in stories of other First Peoples, from North America to Scandinavia. The role of corvids in these stories ranges from the bird that brought fire to humans, the arrogant trickster, the clever bird, the messenger of good and bad, keeper of secrets and as an instrument of divine punishment.
In our tendency to anthropomorphise the animal world, we still attribute corvids with human traits such as cruel, savage or clever, perhaps to better make sense of their behaviour. Yet, scientific studies abound showing the intelligence of corvids, in particular ravens and crows, for their ability to use tools, social learning, and their understanding of mental states. In the book Gifts of the Crow, wildlife scientist Dr John Marzluff explains corvids also have the capacity for self-recognition, insight, revenge, deceit, murder, play, calculated risk taking and traditions. He writes: “We are different, but by degree.”
For some, the degree of difference between us might be too close for comfort, but the smarts and character of corvids will undoubtedly ensure our cultural and ecological evolution are entwined. Ravens and crows will continue to be symbols of the decisions we make to shape our future.
• Kim V Goldsmith is a writer, storyteller and artist from Dubbo, NSW
• The Australian bird of the year poll launches on 25 September 2023
