I inadvertently encroached on a crows' nest with a young chick in it, one time while I was out taking pictures on a break at work. The chick called out in alarm

I inadvertently encroached on a crows' nest with a young chick in it, one time while I was out taking pictures on a break at work. The chick called out in alarm, and the parents weren't far away. Then and after, whenever I left the building with my camera in hand, they made low passes and warning calls until I went back inside - but only when I had my camera. This kept up for days, including after a weekend when I wasn't at work, until it occurred to me to try a peace offering of potato chips from the vending machine - not the healthiest food for anyone, but the best it had to offer, and I had nothing else really to work with. After a few days of emptying a bag of chips on the grassy verge opposite the parking lot, and of conscientiously not approaching the nest again, the warning calls and surveillance flights ceased, and the crows never had a problem with me again. I'd read previously about corvids' intelligence, but that they should have such an extensive and accurate theory of mind, for animals with whom they have so little in common, still surprised me. Hell, for all that we flatter ourselves we invented the concepts, I've known plenty of humans who grasped impropriety, apology, restitution, and forgiveness less well than those birds did.