I’ve mentioned several times on this blog that there are many crows in Maynooth. By “crows” I mean members of the family Corvidae, including rooks, jackdaws and magpies as well as crows themselves, of which the hooded crow is the most common around these parts. I find them all fascinating, as they are remarkably intelligent, playful and full of mischief, though they can be a nuisance at times. The sound of crows clattering about on the roof can be quite distracting, and their cawing and chattering is hardly musical. I’m used to them now, though. I often watch them with suspicion, wondering what they’re up to, but don’t try to scare them off. I would miss them if they went away.
At this time of year the crows are moulting, and I regularly have to pick up discarded feathers here and there:
I noticed some rooks and jackdaws starting to moult a few weeks ago, actually. The usual season is “late summer”, i.e. after the beeding season, but I suppose the precise timing of the onset of moulting depends on the weather. It does seem a rather uncomfortable time for these birds. Their new feathers have to grow out through their skin as the old ones are discarded which can’t be a pleasant experience. I imagine they feel quite itchy while it’s going on. They also look very dishevelled and grumpy; sometimes even embarrassed. Some look sick or diseased, but they’re quite healthy really. It’s just a natural phase they go through once a year. Soon they will emerge with shiny new feathers, ready for fresh mischief.
All this this reminded me of this famous excerpt from a letter written by the artist Vincent van Gogh to his brother Theo in 1880:
What the moulting season is for birds – the time when they lose their feathers – setbacks, misfortune and hard times are for us human beings. You can cling on to the moulting season, you can also emerge from it reborn, but it must not be done in public.
It echoes one of the themes of yesterday’s post.
In the Dark 