Crows. They're everywhere. It's basically impossible to drive anywhere, city or country, without seeing some. They thrive on leftover grain in corn and soybean fields, linger around McDonald's, Burger King and other places hoping for bits of bread and other tidbits, haunt landfills and loaf around grain silos looking for spilled grain. In Ohio alone there are millions of these big, black 1- to 1 1/2-pound birds, and their population is slowly increasing. Therein lies a tale.
Many people don't like these noisy, prolific birds, and for good reason. I've had more than one farmer tell me of seeing them work down a row of fresh sprouted corn plants, pulling each and eating the seed below. That's not so bad when one or two do it, but when a whole flock digs in, it can be costly. They're opportunist feeders, too, not at all averse to robbing song bird nests and feasting on the eggs. So, what do you do when an idle afternoon comes around and you've little to do? You hunt crows, secure in the knowledge that you're doing something useful by thinning their numbers and getting some great wing shooting practice in process.