I’ve been letting the crow fly around in the open daily after accidentally releasing it last Friday evening. I was a little worried it would find its way into a cat or fox, but early Saturday morning I saw it wrestling with its broodmates in the elm beside the shop. It tired of that pretty soon, and flew down to the roof. I’ve still got scaffolding up from a project I nearly completed about a year ago (and have been too busy, lazy, or distracted to put the finishing touches on) so I was able to climb up, coax it over with some cat food, and grab it.
Since then, we’ve let it out a couple of times so it can go hang with the crows, and after a half hour or so it flies back to a spot where you can reach it without much effort.
Yesterday was the first time I’ve heard it cawing to the other crows. It has a different way of speaking to us (a burbling sound that increases in volume as we walk away… “Where you think you’re going?” Maybe.)
It’s also developed this peculiar habit of grabbing one of my fingers in its beak and holding it while I give it a pet on its snaky little head. I wonder if any crow specialists can tell me why they do this. I’ve seen footage of other habituated crows doing something similar.
They’re able to arch their brows and have remarkably expressive faces for avians.
They must not be very tasty, or are, as my wife suggests, unable to mate in captivity: otherwise we’d have domesticated them. Of the many animals we have here, I get the impression it is the one most delighted with human company.*

*Balto is human. He don’t know nothing else.