Rich Saunders takes on some Corvids in a battle of wits

Now chimpanzees are clever, so too are dolphins and whales. Even my soppy old Labrador is smart enough to know that when a certain pair of boots come out of the cupboard it means walkies. But when it comes to the grey matter, corvids are right up there.

In fact, according to those who study such things, they account for half of the world’s top ten most intelligent birds. Of the five, the raven is protected, but the others – the magpie, jay, crow and rook – are amongst the most challenging quarry species for airgunners, assuming every possible method of non-lethal scaring technique has first been attempted of course.

I’ve been using air rifles for pest control for decades but can honestly say the number of corvids I’ve shot can be counted on the fingers of two hands. I’ve accounted for plenty with a shotgun, but the only ones to fall to my airgun are clearly the dim ones who landed on a tree in front of me.

Their eyesight is, of course, legendary but it pales into insignificance when compared to what lies behind it. And when you add their ability to communicate with each other, it’s no surprise they are usually one step ahead.

I once spent ages setting up a screen in a farmyard with the intention of shooting crows, rooks and jackdaws as they landed on a food clamp. I dressed it with foliage and sat behind, feeling smug that I couldn’t be more hidden if I was wearing Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility.

After several fruitless hours it dawned on me that the crows sitting on a tree a hundred yards behind me were calling out warnings to all the others.

I’ve never tried it, but I’m reliably informed corvids don’t taste all that good, so they fall squarely in the pest category. And as any farmer will tell you, they are a constant problem – either menacing sheep, scoffing newly drilled crops and pooping in animal feed, not to mention predating on the young of endangered wild birds.

It was just such a farmer who called me recently. He’d been talking to one of my permission holders who’d passed on my details and wanted to know if I’d be able to help with a pest ‘infestation’.

Who doesn’t love a call like that?

Of course, I said I’d be delighted to help and asked what the problem was. When he told me the farm was overrun with crows, I thought it would be an opportunity to use my shotgun.

But then he explained that his land bordered a park and the local authorities had made their dislike of shotguns very clear. I explained that I could use a silenced shotgun, but the farmer told me the concern was more related to the potential for members of the public being showered with lead pellets.

As it turned out, he’d called me specifically because his farmer friend had said I use an air rifle. Not one to look a gift horse in the gob, I didn’t let on that shooting rabbits and rats was one thing and corvids were another, so of course, I told him that air rifles are the perfect tool for the job.

The next day saw me trundling down the farm track to meet the farmer. Experience has taught me the phrase ‘overrun with pests’ should be met with a large pinch of salt. If I had a pound for every time…

It serves me right for being such a cynic because as I pulled into the yard it looked like every crow, rook and jackdaw known to man had descended on the place. There were hundreds in each of the cattle sheds and every tree and shed roof was black with them. The sound of the cawing was deafening.

The farmer wandered over, we touched elbows and had a chat. All the time the birds went about their business with one eye on what we were doing. When we got onto the topic of air rifles, and specifically how quiet they are, I offered to show him. As I whipped my Daystate Huntsman Revere out of its case the crows took one look and disappeared like smoke to take up station on some distant trees.

The farmer cackled with delight, remarking that all I’d need to do is stand in his yard all day and wave my rifle around.

It turned out the crows were drawn to a series of open food clamps that contained waste bread, potatoes and grain that was mixed with the cattle food. As far as the crows were concerned the farm was one huge all you can eat buffet.

The financial impact of feeding the corvids was bad enough, but as the farmer explained, the real issue was that they ventured into the sheds to help themselves to more cattle food. And, as you know, what goes in must come out; the feed and water troughs, gates and fences were covered in their dung.

“I spend half my life cleaning their muck off the equipment,” he said, only he used more colourful phrases to emphasise the key points.

Fearing that I’d bitten off more than I could chew, I set off on my own for a recce and sat under a tree to watch the corvids’ behaviour for a while. Because I’d left my air rifle back in the truck, the birds largely ignored me.

I soon discovered they made their way down a long line of large oak trees, effectively queuing up, to take their turn on the cattle feed.

As one group ate their fill and moved off, they were replaced by those on the closest sitty tree and the rest of the birds simply shuffled down the line until a table at the buffet became free. In the hour or so sat under the tree, it also occurred to me that I’d not seen any smaller songbird species; no doubt the corvids had cleared them out long before.

Gradually a plan began to form. The hedgerow opposite the last sitty tree was nice and thick and the field had plenty of long grass and weeds. I felt sure that by making a hide, dressing it with foliage and backing myself into the hedgerow to avoid detection from above and behind, I’d give myself a reasonable chance of taking a few birds. If necessary I could even lift a few decoys into the tree.

To maximise my chances, I took the added precaution of setting up the hide a couple of weeks before I intended to shoot so the corvids would get used to it.

The other challenge I had to deal with was the fact that the hide was a good 50 metres from the sitty tree. I’d seen a few birds land in a smaller tree 25 metres away, but they only did so when there was no space on the larger trees.

Whilst 25 metres is an ideal distance for a 12 ft. lbs. rifle, 50 metres is well beyond the distance I’d feel comfortable taking shots at live quarry, especially when sitting on the floor with stinging nettles up my nose, shooting from a set of trigger sticks.

Fortunately, I had hundreds of acres of backdrop which meant my short-barrelled FAC rated Delta Wolf would be ideal. At 35 ft. lbs. it fires a 16 grain .22 calibre pellet at more than 900 feet per second. Most of my UK legal limit rifles are set up with a second focal plane scope but because I use the higher-powered Delta Wolf for shots anywhere between 20 and 60 metres, I’ve fitted a first focal plane MTC King Cobra 6-24×50.

If you’ve not come across them before, the reticle on a first focal plane scope is located in front of the magnifying lens. As a result, it will get bigger and smaller as you go through the magnification range but maintain a constant relationship between aimpoint and target.

By contrast, the reticle on a second focal plane scope is set behind the magnifying lens and stays the same size regardless of the magnification setting. Consequently, the relationship between the Aimpoint and your target is different depending on the magnification you use.

The value of this was brought home to me on the range. Having zeroed at 30 metres, my Delta Wolf needed a mildot of holdover at 50 metres on a second focal plane scope at 12x magnification. But zooming up to 24x meant I needed four mildots.

However, when I fitted a first focal plane King Cobra, shots at 50 metres required one mildot regardless of the magnification.

So back to my hay fever cell in the hedgerow. I arrived early and once again was greeted by squawking corvids about the yard, in the sheds and on the trees. Clearly, they liked an early breakfast.

I made my way to the hide as nonchalantly as possible, feeling literally thousands of eyes upon me. A few of the weeds I’d used to dress the hide had died so I replaced them before ducking behind the camo netting screen.

Even with all the cover in front of me, I took the added precaution of wearing a face veil and gloves and ensuring only the tip of the silencer poked through the hide. Keeping movement to a minimum, I waited for the crows, rooks and jackdaws to return. After half an hour, the sitty tree was bare as the birds stubbornly kept to those a hundred yards or so further up the field.

I’d just started to fear I’d been outwitted when a crow landed on a bare branch right at the top of the tree, followed a few seconds later by a couple more. I resisted the urge to take my shot and instead opted to leave the birds alone, hoping the others watching would think everything had returned to normal and go about their food queuing business.

After a few minutes they flew off. After another prolonged period spent staring at the empty tree again I began cursing myself for being too cautious and wished I’d taken the shot; one crow would be better than none.

I needn’t have worried though as a jackdaw landed on the same bare branch. The Delta Wolf was already lined up and all I had to do was make a small adjustment, locate my mildot of hold over on 18x magnification and squeeze the trigger.

The pellet zipped across the 53 metres and lifted the bird right off its perch to plunge to the floor below. Over the next ten minutes I tortured myself, wondering if the rest of the corvids had seen what had happened and would steer clear.

Once again, my fears were unfounded and over the next three hours I managed to drop 20 rooks, crows and jackdaws from their lofty perch, remaining hidden from view the whole time.

The Delta Wolf / King Cobra combination performed faultlessly, and the benefits of the scope’s first focal plane design were reinforced when I was able to claim three rooks that had landed on the smaller tree just 25 metres away. Despite reducing the magnification down to 8x, I knew I simply had to aim dead on to execute perfectly placed headshots each time.

Emerging eventually from the hide, I walked across the field to pick up and managed to find all but of a couple of birds that had fallen into thick brambles. I walked back to the truck to get a bin bag and met the farmer in the yard.

Seeing me empty-handed, he was clearly not impressed but when I explained there were too many to carry back he offered me the use of his quad bike and trailer to bring the birds and my gear back. Not a bad way to end the day.

Rich writes for www.alphamilitaria.com where you can find plenty more reviews and articles