Crows Aren’t Real
– Japan’s Spy Bird Urban Legend
1. What Does “Crows Aren’t Real” Mean?
It’s often said that humans instinctively associate the color black with ominous feelings.
In extreme cases, people experience “melanophobia”—a fear so intense that merely seeing the color black can trigger panic attacks.
Humans also tend to feel envy, fear, or even aversion toward abilities they themselves do not possess.
Such emotions, when left to fester, sometimes give rise to wild and unexpected ideas.
This is one of those ideas—an unbelievable story involving the black birds that fly above us: crows.
In 2017, in the United States, a satirical movement began with a simple but jarring claim:
“Birds Aren’t Real.”
According to this mock theory, all birds are actually government surveillance drones, and the real ones were wiped out in the 1960s.
What started as a joke mocking conspiracy theories caught on with younger generations—
not just because of its absurdity, but because of how strangely plausible it seemed in a world where everything is being watched.
The meme went viral, spreading across TikTok, Reddit, and YouTube as a symbol of online culture.
And now, Japan.
This meme, lightly rebranded, has crossed the ocean.
Rumors like “Are Japan’s crows actually government surveillance drones?” have begun appearing on platforms like X (formerly Twitter) and Reddit.
Of course, no reasonable person truly believes this.
As with the original movement, it’s all a joke—just another harmless slice of internet weirdness. And yet…
- The Japanese word caw (“kaa”) sounds like kau (to keep or raise)—so perhaps the government is “raising” the public through crows.
- Crows sitting on power lines? Obviously, they’re recharging.
- The poop on your car? Rumor has it, it contains tracking devices.
- Perhaps they should be caught and dissected… etc.
Absurd? Absolutely.
But where there’s smoke, there’s fire—or at least enough hot air to make us look twice.
…Or so we’d like to say. But no, really, come on now.
2. The Things That Are There
Dr. Tanaka had a secret he couldn’t share with anyone.
Not the manuscript of the sci-fi novel he wrote in middle school, hidden deep in his bookshelf.
Not even the fact that his 5.6-foot height had been generously rounded up to six feet on Facebook.
If his current invention succeeded, it wouldn’t just make him rich.
No—he had grander ambitions.
He dreamed of bending not just objects or people, but entire nations to his will.
By his side stood dozens of crows.
“Who would ever suspect that these crows are going to turn the world upside down!”
he declared triumphantly.
Then, realizing his voice had come out louder than intended, he blushed slightly and gave the nearest crow an awkward, vigorous pat on the head.
To the average eye, these birds looked like ordinary crows.
But there was one critical difference: they were all drones.
He had poured his entire life into this.
Thirty years of planning.
Six months of building.
And now, at last, they were ready for test deployment.
“Crows, spread your wings and fly! Bring me everything the world has to offer!”
he whispered this time, careful with his volume.
And it wasn’t mere exaggeration.
Each crow drone had ultra-high-definition cameras for eyes, capable of capturing the finest detail.
Delicate microphones in the back of their heads picked up every word.
Undetected and free to roam, they could go anywhere, see anything, and bring the world itself to Dr. Tanaka.
“If this works, I’ll possess all the information in existence. I’ll be king of the world!”
he exclaimed—then, pausing, realized that even with all the data in the world, he was still just a regular citizen.
“…I mean, the most impressive person in the world,” he corrected himself.
A month passed.
Dr. Tanaka began to feel satisfied with the results.
The crows were steadily gathering intelligence: unreleased corporate tech, juicy political gossip, secret deals among mafias.
Then one day, he stumbled upon a comment online:
“Crows aren’t even real. Think about it—surveillance drones.”
He froze.
How? Who leaked it?
Panicking, he broke his one-ice-cream-a-day rule and ate three in a row.
But after reading further, he realized it was probably just a joke.
He licked the last bit of ice cream from the lid.
Maybe no one knew.
Still… something about this felt dangerous.
Here’s the issue:
Even if the rumor was just a coincidence, it could spread.
And if people started to suspect that crows were surveillance drones, they’d stop speaking freely in front of them.
His claim on the world itself was slipping away.
He had to act.
Should he hack the message board and delete the post?
No—he had to assume it had already spread elsewhere.
Should he redesign the crows to be even more realistic?
No, because once captured, even the most perfect replica would be exposed.
He braced himself for days of sleepless brainstorming.
But 30 minutes later, he was out of ideas.
So he gave up and turned on the TV.
He reached for a fourth ice cream.
But before he could peel the lid, something on the TV caught his eye.
A baseball game was on: a legendary showdown between a power pitcher and a slugger.
The batter hit a grand slam.
“Home run! A game-changer!” shouted the announcer.
As he watched the player run the bases, fist pumping, Dr. Tanaka had a revelation.
…A game-changer?
Yes. A reverse play.
Every great movie and drama overcomes the impossible with a last-minute twist.
And then it hit him.
“We’ll spread the rumor that pigeons are the drones.”
He repurposed the crow drone schematics and built pigeon drones.
Precision wasn’t necessary—if anything, obvious clues were part of the plan.
He even posted the rumor himself:
“Pigeons are totally drones!”
And for a while, it seemed to work.
However, a problem surfaced almost immediately after the pigeons took flight.
The crow drones already in the air and the new pigeon drones began what looked like a territorial battle.
No—technically, it wasn’t.
They were just drones, after all.
And what was happening wasn’t aggression, but signal interference.
Mid-air collisions became frequent.
Still, Dr. Tanaka didn’t panic.
He’d simply recall all the crow drones.
Once people believed pigeons were the only drones, he could relaunch the project cleanly.
And so, he retrieved every last crow drone.
Now the skies were safe.
People would believe the crows were innocent.
The pigeons were the problem.
“I’m a genius,” he thought. “It would be nice if someone said that to me, though.”
Except the collisions didn’t stop.
Even after all the crow drones had been confirmed and stored, the crashes continued.
Dr. Tanaka, this time, genuinely panicked.
If his drones were all accounted for, what was still flying?
He thought back to that baseball game.
The legendary matchup.
The rival.
Was it possible… someone else had built crow drones?
Still reeling, he reopened the original message board.
Maybe the pigeon rumor had taken hold.
Maybe people had forgotten about the crows.
Maybe.
And then, he saw a new comment:
“Crows and pigeons aren’t real. Obviously surveillance drones.”
3. How to Spot a Spy Crow – A Field Guide
Even if you’ve never seen a spy crow, they may have already seen you.
This field guide offers useful tips for the observant and the slightly paranoid alike.
3-1. Top 3 Surveillance Crow Hotspots in Tokyo
Reports from urban explorers, conspiracy theorists, and unusually alert joggers point to three locations in Tokyo with unusually high concentrations of crows:
- Yoyogi Park:
Allegedly a training ground for new drone models. Local pigeons seem to avoid the area. - Ueno Park:
A long-standing favorite due to its strategic vantage points and large crowds.
(Pro tip: Avoid eating taiyaki here. You’re being watched.) - Inokashira Park:
Quiet, scenic, and oddly popular among crows with “longer-than-usual” necks.
One online theory claims they house additional antennas.
These claims are not based on anything resembling evidence.
But hey, if a crow stares at you for more than 10 seconds, maybe move along.
3-2. How Crows Choose Their Targets (Urban Legend Edition)
So, how do spy crows decide who to monitor? Here’s what people say:
- People who talk to themselves
- Tourists taking photos of trash cans
- Anyone wearing camouflage indoors
- Children who whisper to vending machines
- Salarymen eating lunch alone while staring into space
There’s no official criteria (because there’s no official program),
but rumor has it that odd, quiet behavior is most likely to draw attention.
In short: the weirder you are, the more interesting you are… to crows.
3-3. What to Do If You Encounter a Spy Crow
If you find yourself under the intense gaze of a particularly well-built crow, remain calm.
Do not scream. Do not wave your arms. And above all, do not attempt to interview it.
Instead, choose one of the following approved responses:
- Option A: Salute respectfully.
(Many believe this signals “submission,” and the crow will move on.) - Option B: Offer breadcrumbs.
(This is unlikely to be effective, but makes you look polite.) - Option C: Pretend you’re a crow too.
(Use only if well-practiced. Results may vary.)
Should you accidentally make eye contact, nod slowly. It’s the crow code for “I see you.”
3-4. Reporting Your Findings
If you wish to share your observations,
they say there’s a hashtag floating around the internet:
#SpyCrowJP
Believe it or not—
that’s up to you.
Also available: Reality of J, a site sharing more on Japan travel and culture.