A scientific paper came out a few weeks ago that reinforced that crows are darned smart. No, the researchers didn’t say that exactly. But they did show that the crows in the study recognized when mortal harm appeared to have befallen one of their own — and they remembered the human that they thought was responsible.

The study took place in Seattle, where scientists put out food scraps to attract crows. They then observed them while a volunteer wearing a particular mask carried out a dead crow specimen. The crows reacted immediately, mobbing the volunteers and then staying away from the area for days. If a volunteer with that particular mask showed up again even weeks or months later, the crows remembered the face of the “dangerous” person and mobbed him or her. If someone showed up wearing a different mask, the crows ignored that person.

In fact, other researchers have found that crows remember individual people for years. Our friend, crow researcher Kevin McGowan, has banded young crows in their nests for years and is remembered as a “bad guy” by many of the crows in Ithaca, New York, where he carried out his work. If he shows up, they treat him the same way they would treat a hawk or a cat or other predator by following him around and calling loudly.

The researchers also had the masked volunteers walk into the feeding area carrying a dead pigeon specimen. The crows had a much more muted response. They recognized the difference between the death of one of their own kind dying versus that of another bird species.

All of this “new” research probably would be considered old news by Boothbay Harbor residents who remember the tales of Charlie the Crow whose stories were written about by Alice Larkin in the Boothbay Register many years ago.

We still have our well-worn copy of “A Beady-eyed Look at Maine — Tales of Charlie the Crow,” a wonderful compilation of these stories (incidentally, the book is illustrated by Tim Sample, former Register columnist) published in 1974.

Charlie apparently fell out of his nest at an early, pre-flight stage, so Alice raised him. After learning to fly (there’s a funny story about how he had to be rescued from the roof when he lost his nerve) Charlie roamed around Boothbay Harbor learning who he could count on for a free meal and who was not as welcoming.

Alice recognized certain calls that Charlie gave when he wanted food. He eventually formed a bond with a female crow and raised a family, but he always remembered Alice and would come swooping down to land on her shoulder when she was out for a walk or working around the yard.

We had a family of crows we enjoyed for years who would appear on Sunday mornings in our backyard and call loudly until we tossed out the leftover pancakes. They would carefully tear them into strips and fly off with them into the pine grove on the hill. We always wondered if they had a calendar up there in the woods to remind them when Sunday rolled around again. Given how smart they are, maybe they just counted the days.