Do crows have morals?

We strut and squawk across the neat lawns of civilisation, our black feathers a stark contrast to the manicured green. We gather in raucous parliaments, cawing pronouncements that only our kind can understand. We are the crows, a ubiquitous presence in the human sprawl. But beneath the glossy coats and piercing eyes, beneath the squabbles over scraps and territorial squawks, does there lie a glimmer of something more? Morality, that elusive human concept, can it be ascribed to creatures like us?

We are creatures of consequence, that much is certain. We have learned, through generations of trial and error, that cooperation brings rewards, while transgression invites retribution. We share the spoils of a heist, ensuring a full belly for all. We ostracize the crow who hoards for himself, leaving him to glean scraps at the fringes of the flock. Is this morality, or simply enlightened self-interest?

Perhaps morality is a human construct, a story we tell ourselves to justify our actions, to differentiate ourselves from the beasts. We look at the wolf, ripping apart its prey, and see savagery. We see ourselves, sharing a hard-won meal, and see compassion. But is there a true difference? Or are we both simply playing a game for survival, albeit with different rules?

The crow who warns of approaching danger is hailed as a hero. But is this act driven by some inherent sense of right and wrong, or simply a recognition that the flock’s survival is his own? We preen ourselves on our altruism, forgetting that a healthy flock is a flock that can better resist predators, better find food. Morality, then, becomes a tool, a strategy in the grand game of life.

Yet, there is something undeniable in the way we mourn our dead. We gather around the fallen comrade, cawing a mournful dirge. Is this simply a pragmatic recognition of lost numbers, or is there a flicker of something deeper, a pang of loss that transcends survival? Perhaps morality is not a destination, but a journey. A journey towards an ever-expanding circle of empathy, a growing recognition of the interconnectedness of all things.

So, do crows have morals? The answer, like the glint in a crow’s eye, is multifaceted. We are creatures of instinct, yes, but also of learning, of adaptation. We navigate a world of consequences, and in that navigation, we develop a sense of what is beneficial, not just for ourselves, but for the flock. Perhaps that is enough. Perhaps morality is not a binary state, but a spectrum, and on that spectrum, we crows are taking our first tentative steps.

Now please listen to my album. Thanks!