Battling Black Crow Bowel Blasts

Courtesy of needpix.com

We’ve experienced some fowl times in my neighborhood. It began in late June, in the early dawn hours of the morning. I was repeatedly woken by a cadence of loud “caw-caw-caw” squawks. That meant it wasn’t pigeons that were responsible for these affronts. I recognized the handiwork of crows in the form of disgusting splotches of white-gray bird guano splattering our driveway, occasionally peppering the car.

Yuck. And very hard to remove.

I thought these dirty deeds would be temporary, might abate. Wrong--it just got worse. I knew I was at war.

Preparing to do battle, I studied my new enemy. Canny, intelligent creatures, those crows. They’re well known as pests in cities, prying apart garbage bags for edible trash and making a mess. They are clever birds who know that humans will always place garbage in accessible places. People may even cover their trash with netting, but these wily adversaries peck the bags, or drag them out, then rip them apart in their search for food. 

They’ll stake out a spot near a source of food and establish a nice perch to rest at night. And drop their guano in the same spot.

Those are all good reasons to combat this scourge of deep sleep and sanitation. And so I bought a cheap water pistol and plotted an ambush to scare them off. Evidently I didn’t plan well or practice properly ahead of time. This pistol’s meager stream didn’t reach the power lines less than 20 feet from our balcony. It neither scared the crows nor dislodged them from their regular resting place atop the power lines. It just made them caw with derision. I lost the first skirmish.

I ignored my bruised pride and regrouped. Thought it through. First, I made a decoy. My neighbor had mentioned an old farmer’s trick to make a scarecrow or a flashy moving object, to trick the crows by the scarecrow’s movement due to gusts of wind or the sun’s glint. I put together a "tinsel terror" festooned with old CDs to rustle in the wind and glitter in the sun.

Then I purchased some better firepower.  A pump-action super soaker water pistol that can accurately shoot a powerful stream of water 40 feet. I plotted my ambush. One early morning, the usual “caw-caw-caw” (“we’re here”) notice roused me. I crept onto the balcony, jumped up quickly and nailed two crows with a jet of water. Revenge at last.

The crows have not returned to sit on the same spot and there has been no further crow crap on my car or driveway. This is 100% true.

And if they do come, I’ve got the super soaker ready to do battle again.