A college acquaintance of mine was in the habit, when deeply moved, of remarking "Well, stone the crows!" I could never understand why crows, for which I have every affection, should deserve this penalty any more than why anyone should wish to kill two birds with one stone. I suppose there ideas go back to the days when small boys were stationed in fields of ripening corn to scare off any possible feathered thieves. I suppose that farmers and gardeners in particular have always looked upon birds as unwelcome intruders.
When human settlements arose in neolithic times a near relationship was established between man and birds of all shapes and sizes. Prior to that they were potential food sources, but I think not necessarily as rivals for the fruits of the earth. Rock doves were domesticated in Iraq about 4500BC, fowls were raised in India about 3200BC, and the Normans brought their dovecotes into the British Isles in 1066. Wild birds of all descriptions were taken for the pot in Anglo-Saxon and medieval times, and still are in some European countries,
The reduction of the rural population by the black death eased the pressure of farming on wildlife, and shortly afterwards there was an upsurge in bird numbers. Under Henry VIII an Act was passed requiring landowners to destroy jackdaws, crows and rooks which were robbing corn crops. Under Elizabeth I the list was extended to include other corvines, hawks, woodpeckers, cormorants and bullfinches. In Victorian times the millinery trade demanded the slaughter of seabirds, particularly the kittiwake, and recently oil spills and the indiscriminate dusting of chemical pesticides over the countryside by farmers have subjected the birds to more stress.
Human attitudes to the corvines in particular have always been equivocal. On the one hand, the cawing of rooks in the immemorial elms in spring is always chosen to set a tranquil rural scene in drama and literature. On the other, the harsh alarm calls of the jay, the magpie and the crow are a shock to the nervous system. The cronk of the raven as he flies over the sea-cliffs and the mountainside is something I find remarkably soothing and reassuring but traditionally it is the sound of evil omen, foretelling death and destruction. Perhaps it is not surprising that, when encountering a creature of the corvine persuasion, many people take a dim view of it.
Personally, I always find the company of birds enjoyable, and am sorry when their numbers diminish, even temporarily. I have no intention of stoning any crows.