Portrait of a bird: The crows of Oosterpark
Silhouetted sinister shadows, flickering figures of mystery, meet our noisy neighbors: the Oosterpark crows. These living, breathing, watching cloaked crows have survived numerous inaugurations and reinventions of the park – they are the true survivors: the real alternative creatures of Amsterdam, who have perched in this space “steeped in a rich history that dates back to its inauguration in 1891.”
Visitors to Amsterdam Oosterpark may have paid more attention to the monuments, placed there to encourage poignant reflections of Amsterdam’s societal narratives and cultural progression, or to the natural fauna of this ‘English garden style’ city park: “Designed in 1891 by Leonard Antonij Springer (1855-1940), one of the foremost landscape architects in the country, son of a known realist painter” (1). Yet one could argue that the modest black birds that exist behind, between, and beyond are the true historians of the park. The crows: a welcome reminder of the importance of looking back whilst moving forward.
From the family Corvidae, which also includes ravens, magpies, and jays, the portrayal of crows is steeped in the gothic. Mostly associated with macabre, sinister imagery (such as those depicted in literature or films like Alfred Hitchcock’s portrayal in his movie The Birds), or other negative connotations including on battle fields as they peck at the corpses of the fallen, or shooed away by farmers for feasting on the eyes of new born lambs. Why else did they invent scarecrows… does it come as a surprise that the collective noun is a ‘murder of crows’?
It is time to change the narrative on these lesser-considered Corvus. Unlike their commonly seen counterparts the magpie or pigeon, these vocal black birds (often misidentified as the larger ravens) are highly intelligent. Researchers have proven that they can make tools and can count (to a point), and they are also known to be very discriminating in their abilities to identify specific objects.
Ever sensed a murder of crows gathering in their roost above as the sun set? Perhaps you too have felt a familiarity with your local crow colony? Chances are that these long-lasting residents are feeling it too. Crows can recognise the faces of regulars and are known to respond to human appeals for friendship. With an impressive vocal range, there are also accounts of crows’ capacity for imitation, and they thus are regarded as a talkative bunch. So, it is time to shake off the sinister soundtrack and listen to the caw and call of the crows.
In order to construct Oosterpark, “the municipality decided to remove a cemetery from the area and to demolish some smaller estates” (1). This ignorant reference ‘to remove a cemetery’ denigrates the devastation caused to the natural world, a home to a multitude of birds, and the hearts of those who loved this space. In an article published in 1922, at a time when the park was the Oosterbegraafplaats (Oosterburialsite), one such admirer, J. Derksen (2), describes it as idyllic: the area had for “several years provided a breeding ground for many species of bird,” such as barn owls, blackbirds, wrens, robins, and mockingbirds. Changes to “the circumstances” in the area made breeding grounds “limited; (…) changes at the disadvantage to the bird world.”
Thus, the municipality decision meant in reality the removal of brush and nettles and “wild” nature, and destruction to the habitats ‘for the songbirds.’ Derksen’s article reports a rook colony being forcibly removed. Derksen recounts how the raising of the land caused rot in roots of the larger trees – the place where the rooks nested – eventually causing them to die and fall; considered a nuisance, nesting in huge numbers, their homes were destroyed. There is a lamenting tone to Derksen’s article, understandably so, which contrasts against his joyful portrait of the birds.
As the burial ground was re-crowned a public park, which now borders various popular buildings and is peppered with ‘memorials of peace and progression,’ is it not ironic that a long forgotten, beautiful nature reserve was destroyed in the process?
The ejection of the birds reminds us of the forcible removal of people and resistors from spaces signed off for development. This chokehold on spaces continues to eject dwellers from alternative Amsterdam, undervaluing the beautiful lives that live or lived there and the balanced eco-system it sustained. That the song birds are now silenced reminds us that one must not forget the lives sacrificed for change – yet the crows returned, and remained. How is it that these crows survived and stayed alternative? Perhaps the way that we, humans, see the spaces needs to change in order to survive, as the crows have. How could the world and its challenges look different, from a bird’s eye view?
They help to remind us of the importance of gathering together, of looking and remembering, of cacheing for the hard times and resisting change, particularly when it acts to tear us from our very existence.
Someone once said, all history is revisitory. As discoveries are made and as knowledge expands, what we know to be true changes; as our attitudes and ideas are shaped and changed as we continually grow. These clever crows recalibrated to fit the communities that have congregated around and within the Oosterpark area. As a fixed reminder of the city’s journey and struggle over time, the crows may offer us a more ‘natural’ and meaningful opportunity for introspection about what alternative can be. With a greater awareness and appreciation of this species, these silent witnesses to the societal shifts of Oosterpark, they help to remind us: of the importance of gathering together, of looking and remembering, of cacheing for the hard times and resisting change, particularly when it acts to tear us from our very existence.
References:
1. www.amsterdam.info/parks/oosterpark/
2. Derksen, J, De Levende Natuur 27 (1): 15-20 (1922) De Roekenkolonie te Amsterdam. 15 De Roekenkolonie op de voormalige Oosterbegraafplaats te Amsterdam (www.natuurtijdschriften.nl/pub/489125/DLn0270150201.pdf)