One of the most amusing things that I have noticed about the corvidophiles I have known is that they have very similar personality traits. Not all fit into the mold - in fact most go out of their way not to be cast in any sort of mold, but certain themes still show up. In a completely unscientific way, I've noted and recorded a few of them here. You are welcome to agree or disagree with me at your whim.

Oddities
Corvidophiles are usually 'odd' types. They tend to be the sort of people that stick out in a crowd, or don't fit in at a social gathering, or go out of their way to be different. Most can't stand to be stereotyped, or calmly uphold the status quo. A disproportionately large number of them were 'the odd one out' in school - the child who no one would play with, who was always chosen last for sports teams and project partners. And all of them that I've known would consider the remark "You're strange!" to be a compliment.

Many choose to display their oddness in the way they dress - by wearing entirely black, or gaudy bright colors, or shiny metallics, or anachronistic garb. Some go for wild hair styles, or color their hair with obviously false colors. I have seen them wear cloaks, tall hats, sunglasses at night, trenchcoats in the summer, and other unusual things.

Others seem quite normal until you talk to them. Then they spout random bits of poetry, quotes from movies, or out-of-date expressions. They have been known to affect accents, or caw randomly during conversation.

Most will go out of their way to do the unexpected, or be non-conformist. When walking along the sidewalk, they might stop suddenly to stare at something and then continue on just as suddenly with no explanation, or they might hop on top of a low fence, and walk along it instead. They are more likely to sit backwards on chairs, sit on the armrests of couches, or kneel on the floor than to make proper use of a seat. If everyone picks red flowers, they'll pick blue. If all their friends order beer, they'll order cider. Those sorts of things.

Intelligence
Just about all the corvidophiles I have known have prided themselves on their intellectual faculties. Not all have been geniuses by any measure, but most have been quite bright. They love riddles. They love puzzles. They'll pick up those books of 'Mensa' brain-teasers, and have fun solving one after another - even if they don't fall into the highest of IQ brackets. Many, in fact, do not (or did not) do well in traditional classroom environments - they prefer to excercise their creativity without the restrictions imposed by institutions.

Love of Words
Every corvidophile I have encountered has had some love of words. This comes across in different ways for each, but there are common threads here, too.

Corvidophiles seem to love etymology. They like to know where words come from, how they evolved, and where phrases originated. They carry tidbits of information around with them like the fact that 'Urticate' means 'to flog with nettles', or that 'Sincere' means 'without wax' (long ago merchants would waterproof faulty pottery with wax, which would later melt and cause the urns to leak. Honest merchants, however, advertised their wares as 'sincere'). Toss an unfamiliar word at a corvidophile, and chances are that they will try to figure out its meaning, rather than shrug it off.

Many corvidophiles speak more than one language, or know significant amounts of vocabulary in some foreign tongue. They enjoy using their knowledge, too, mixing foreign words in with familiar, or describing concepts in whatever language is best suited to the task. This is especially true when they are around others who speak multiple languages.

Poetry is another passion common to most corvidophiles. I know several who write poetry, many who memorize it (even when not told to by an english teacher), and the majority appreciate it. When given the opportunity, they can spout verses or pore over volumes of poetry for hours. Again, this is most common when there are others around to share the activity with.

Some corvidophiles take their love of words so far as to insist there are not enough words in the English language. They can, and will, invent new words to describe exactly what they mean (one termed the slimy mold on the bottom of otherwise good-looking fruit, "Egusa"). They will dissect common phrases, and change them to suit their intent (it should be 'a strange twist of phrase', not 'an odd turn of phrase', don't you think?) When possible, they will borrow from foreign tongues, or use words from Douglas Adam's book, The Meaning of Liff. It's important not just to get the meaning across, but the correct meaning across.

As a variant on this fascination with words and meanings, I have discovered that many corvidophiles also find the correct name is important. They will think hard before naming a pet, they will call friends by nicknames if they feel the given names aren't quite right, and they put a lot of thought into choosing an online alias. Some have gone so far as to change their own names to something they feel is more suited to them, rather than go through life with what is, to them, the wrong name. (Perhaps my odds are skewed, since I know quite a few hard core corvidophiles, but a full third of the ones I know have changed their own name.) An interesting tidbit of information, hm?

Questioning the Unquestioned
Perhaps the most common corvidophile trait of all is that they question the unquestioned. There are so many things which people take for granted - cultural stereotypes, rules of convention, social boundaries - that few people ever think to examine. Corvidophiles like to challenge these, and explore the rationale behind the way things are.

For example, why are people sad when the sky is overcast and happy when it is sunny? The rain is just as necessary for life as sunshine is, but no one seems to like the rain. Rain can be refreshing, splashing in puddles is fun (just ask any child!), and the dampness is only an inconvenience if you let it be. Why not lift your face to the rain, and enjoy it for a change?

What is so wrong with death? Society teaches us not to talk about it, that it should be hidden away in a corner. Why? Death, too, is a part of life. Sadness is essential to joy. Everyone has to deal with it eventually, so why not now? Just because the majority isn't comfortable with it isn't a good enough reason. If you can't come to terms with death, how can you really live?

Why is the sky blue? What would have happened if the South had won the civil war? Does it really make a difference if you get up on the wrong side of the bed? Why can't you wear jeans to the office? Why can't you wear a tie to a nightclub? Who says you can't wear stripes and plaids together? How come rude people get the best service in restaurants? And is it really wrong to turn your computer off and on in quick succession?

When there is a contest, corvidophiles tend to cheer for the underdog. For no particular reason, really, except that the majority is against him. When an opinion is put forward, corvidophiles are more likely than others to play the devil's advocate. Not because they agree or disagree with the opinion, necessarily, but because someone should challenge it. When someone presents a stereotype as a given, a corvidophile is probably going to ask "Why?" What makes people believe what they believe? Are there sound reasons for it, or are they just going with the flow?

Maybe this is why corvidophiles identify with crows so much. They are a misunderstood lot, and tend to get into trouble for not being "socially acceptable" all the time. Their intelligence and joy for life tends towards mischief when people underestimate them. They laugh at stereotypes, spread their wings, and leave the entanglements of human society behind.

At least, I like to think so.

You're welcome to disagree. I wouldn't want you to believe just anything you read, after all.

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