That's how crows are.
Working all the angles.
Like this guy:
6:15 am, the first morning of our stay in a lovely, peaceful mountain inn, we were startled awake by a loud, sharp "knock knock knock!"
Eyes pop open wider than usual, probably a little cartoon-style...only to see this overhead.
Yes, he knocked purposely, watched us begin to stir from one side of his head then the other, knocked again, and waited.
What he knows is that on the first day of their stay, guests have a cute little bag of special birdseed. It looks like some kind of yummy trail mix, actually...pretty fancy stuff. And enthusiastic first-day guests will fill their little birdfeeders with this fancy-pantsy trail-mix yumminess and if they're the first to the feeder in the morning (which, of course, they are) the crows get a feast before all those annoying little songbirds show up, what with their adorable chirping and colorful feathery flutteriness and all.
Well, he was right, as crows (almost) always are.
We said, "yes sir, Mr. Crow, right away sir" quickly put on a robe and delivered the goods...and his family feasted while we watched from bed.
When the little fancy bag of candy-seed is finally gone, the feeders are refilled with plain old everyday birdseed. The jays like that enough to wake you for it.
(Tap, tap, tap). "Hello. Good morning." "Thank you."
"Hey, get up and look out into the riverbed at the little deer in the first sunlight."
As for the crows, they disappear into the trees, knowing their feast will return when someone new checks in. And until then, all is peaceful and quiet on the riverbed.
Back here at the real world again, my neighboring family of crows entertain me just fine. I can hear them from here at the computer right now...Mr. Baby still doesn't like the fact that they're not putting food right into his mouth. I recently watched him just sit and stare at an entire bagel one of the parents painstakingly carried through the air and laid in front of him on the neighbor's roof...he just cried.
Maybe he wanted a schmear.