A sound I had never heard before penetrated my hammock-bound meditation. It was a sort of rattling growl, loud and clearly full of meaning, though not one I could interpret. It was urgent and it was serious: so much was clear. But I couldn’t even tell who was making the sound.
Then I heard it again. Was it a mammal? But though the deer around here – Reeves’s muntjac and Chinese water deer – can make some weird calls, this just wasn’t right. No large predator, either: we ain’t got none round here.
Bird then? Reluctantly admitting the limits of my knowledge I fumbled for my phone, an awkward business in a hammock, and tried Merlin, the birdsong app. But there was no further repetition: the need for such communication was past, or the growler had moved out of range.
Later and off-hammock I heard another sound. It wasn’t very similar to my rattling roar, but unquestionably the same timbre. And I knew it at once: rook. There’s a busy rookery just a 100 yards away: they’re social birds and love a good conversation.
There have been several studies of rook vocalisations but nothing I could find offers a simple vocabulary: this caw means this and that grunt means that. I suspect it might be a rather complex system of communication — not musically complex, like the song of a nightingale, but the calls are many and various and clearly carry important meanings.
The idea of language is very precious to us humans, because it’s seen as a thing – or the thing — that separates us from all other living things. With every discovery about communication in non-human animals the definition of language changes, to maintain the myth of human uniqueness.
But like everything else language is a continuum. Rooks are very intelligent, very social, very committed to the pair-bond and very keen on comms. Without making claims for the growler’s ability to write a rookish version of Ulysses, rooks are clearly talking. And listening. And understanding. Parlez-vous rook?
https://www.waterstones.com/book/how-to-fly/simon-barnes/9781526687548
https://www.amazon.co.uk/How-Fly-Taking-Insects-Humans/dp/1526687542

I have just discovered you via my favourite radio programme ‘Private Passions’ and think I’m going to enjoy your Hammock Diaries. My favourite bird is the swift and feel joy when they arrive each Spring. I envy you the vast skies of the East of England.
I hope you’re enjoying both. You canlt beat a good swift
Love this. Love corvids. Loved your Radio 3 Private Passions yesterday.
Glad you enjoyed the programme. An intimidating gig!
I’m surprised how few comments there are on this wonderful series, but it could be that there are several ‘awaiting moderation’, as a couple of mine have been for over a week, now. So trying again with this one, just to see – it would be a shame if Simon thinks that no one cares, when actually the comments are in limbo!
Apologies. Out it down to my technical limitations. Must do better!
One of my inspirations to write and take notice of nature. Thanks for writing and sharing your stories with us! – from India
Let nature do the inspriring. Good luck!