Perhaps the most Seattle thing I’ve done, in a year I’ve spent more time in Seattle than LA, is attempt to make First Contact with the Capitol Hill murder.

Seattle has an unusually high density of urban crows — the suburb of Bothell has a particularly huge co-roosting population, but they’re out in force across the greater metro area — and human residents are quite fond of them. Crows recognize and remember humans who treat them well (or badly!), and urban crows have a lower baseline fear of bipedal apes that makes them particularly amenable to friendly overtures. University of Washington biologist Carl Bergstrom has gone as far as to recommend befriending crows, and suggests starting with an offering of shelled unsalted peanuts.

So when I happened to see shelled unsalted peanuts on offer in a corner of the QFC produce section, I bought a bag. I spend most Seattle workdays on my laptop at the table in the apartment’s dining area, with my back to the sliding glass doors that let out onto the balcony. I laid out some peanuts on the little table on the balcony and, soon enough, heard visitors outside.

I’ve been in and out of town since that first visit, and so not able to keep the peanuts available continuously. It’s not clear how much the crows recognize or remember me through the balcony door; and so far I haven’t remarked any distinguishing features that let me identify individuals. They come singly or in groups of as many as four, and often there are others who swoop by to consider the peanuts.

They are still quite skittish if C or I are standing too close to the balcony doors, but they’re pretty bold when I’m seated at my laptop with my back turned. I do think they know that one or both of us are the source of the peanuts. It’s not uncommon, now, for a crow to land on the balcony while my back is turned and then call — maybe asking for a refill? A couple times crows have remained perched on the railing while I grab a handful of peanuts, flitted away to a nearby rooftop or tree just at the moment I open the balcony door to step out. From there, they’ve watched me lay the peanuts out on the table, go back inside, and shut the door before flying back down for more snacks.

So it’s a process, and I think we’re building rapport. I don’t have much more time in Seattle before I start the spring semester in LA, but I have a feeling that the next time I’m back in town, crows will be ready for me.