Crows remember a face. And learn from one another

The subject is the American crow, Corvus brachyrhynchos, rather than a generic black bird from a film. Cornell describes black plumage, bill and legs, with a relatively short tail. It also lives close to people: fields, lawns, car parks and towns are among the environments where it can be observed. [1]

In a study published in 2011, researchers near Seattle captured, banded and released crows while wearing masks. They subsequently compared reactions to faces associated with capture and neutral faces: a controlled comparison, rather than a casual encounter. [2]

Alarm responses also appeared in uncaptured birds and young birds exposed to their parents’ responses. The authors identified forms of social learning: learning through observing other crows, as well as through direct experience. [2]

A later study, described by the University of Washington in 2012, examined twelve adult males and their brain activity. One mask was associated with capture, another with the people feeding them. Both had neutral expressions: what mattered was the experience linked to the face, rather than a more villainous eyebrow. [3]

Measurements showed different brain activity in relation to those faces and learned associations. The university describes parallels with circuits studied in mammals. A parallel does not establish identical experience: these results do not reveal crows’ thoughts, grudges or inner monologues. A playful headline must stop before inventing an entire human psychology. [3]

Cornell’s guide describes highly social birds and notes that they can gather to drive away perceived threats. This context makes their learning worth investigating. There is no need to add superpowers: recognising individuals and responding together are already complex challenges for an animal sharing space with other animals and with us. [1]

An image invented by the editors: imagine neighbours warning each other that the lift is broken. Not everyone needs to become trapped before choosing another route. The comparison illustrates the usefulness of social information, but does not describe a crow language or demonstrate that birds tell stories about incidents in the way we do. [2]

Our editorial conclusion is to observe without devising impromptu experiments on animals. We can note a bird’s presence, a call and the context while leaving the explanation open. The crow on the streetlight has not necessarily filed a report on us: perhaps we are walking through a story already written in our heads, complete with an excellent sound-effects department. [3]