A clever crow recently played in the rain under my peach tree. Crows usually seem quite serious, but this crow tossed around a bit of peach like a puppy with a toy. Then it took the peach to the birdbath and washed it. The crow did not eat the peach, it just played with it in the water. This was a rare peaceful moment in my experience with crows. Soon the crow gave a raucous call to invite another crow to join it, but the crow who came did not know how to play. Playtime was over.
I used to throw pebbles at the crows in my yard to try and protect my old Cat Margaret from their harassment, but the crows just flew squawking into tree branches higher than I could throw. They made such a racket that other crows flew in to join the fun. I could see their beady eyes glint from around tree branches as they hid watching me from all directions, and the flutter of glossy wings as they moved to a better vantage point. The flash of sunlight off their blue-black wings was quite beautiful. They would play peek and caw as long as I stood outside. Once when I was driving though the city, a crow swooped down purposefully over my car. It squawked defiantly into my open window. I got the distinct impression that it recognized me, and was startled to see me out and about. It was telling me to go home. That was the day I stopped trying to drive them away. Nature prevailed. I throw no stones, the crows squawk less, but Cat Margaret is reduced to sitting on the doorsill, safely backed under the lintel.