I was walking through a park when I saw a crow carrying around a single serving snack bag they’d probably stolen from a picnic. This was in Japan, so the crow was the size of a cat with a beak like one long sharp finger.
The crow kept stomping on it and ripping at it, but they couldn’t get it open. I approached to open the bag for them, but they grabbed it and hopped away, thinking that I was trying to steal it for myself.
I held up my empty hands. “Do you think I want something you’ve been stomping on for god knows how long? I know how to open these human made things. I can help you.”
The crow didn’t understand.
I used to think that if we learned how to communicate with the crows, we’d discover that they knew a lot more than we did.