Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Six Rowdy Ravens



Wednesday August 17 2011

The juvenile gang showed up a couple of weeks ago out of the blue: six bold, raucous, rowdy young Ravens perching in a dead tree one evening, surveying their new turf.

Where did they come from? Are they all from the same area? Are they from the same nest? Did they happen upon each other and something made them decide to stick together? Did they recognize the intrepid kinship in each other? Did they recognize that the voices and presence of six are much more intimidating than one?

They're like rambunctious teenagers, punk hats sideways on their heads, pants down below their knees - they swagger, they strut about; they shriek, they yell; there's nothing subtle about them - and why should there be? At this age, they know everything and they let the world know they know everything.


Delightfully irreverent, every morning they wake the dead (and the living) before dawn, hollering at the universe to look out because they're coming.

They set off roaming, terrorizing the neighborhood, bullying little birds, eluding enraged kestrals, daringly dodging disturbed dogs. They satisfy their hunger by persecuting worms and bugs, harvesting seeds from grass stalks, plucking at dead things.

They experiment and play - any toy will do. One Raven breaks a tiny stick off a tree;



another hops close to try and take it; another Raven breaks off his own stick and plays with it

till the first Raven drops his

and hops over to try and take the other Raven's stick.

I walk beneath their tree every evening before they fall asleep, tossing out dog food nibbles. Do they eat it in the morning? I don't know, but they watch me. They are imperiously untouchable. One morning they left behind a huge feather for me as a token of their illustrious Ravenness.


They are acrobats in the air

chasing each other,

diving, tumbling, swooping, soaring, landing

and taking off and screaming their encouragement to each other.

On a sudden whim, they all scatter, shooting across the sky, strewing like sun rays; they reconvene as one to a tree to discuss things, shouting opinions, yelling thoughts, rawking discoveries, muttering comments, murmuring secrets, burbling stories, knocking their magnificence.

They scuffle, they argue;



they say sweet things, they cuddle.


They entertain. They delight.

They bring great luck with their presence, these six rowdy Ravens.


*Worth noting: I borrowed part of my title from Evon Zerbetz's marvelous illustrated book Ten Rowdy Ravens. She also illustrated Dog Days, Raven Nights, by John and Colleen Marzluff, which I'm reading now.

9 comments:

  1. Hmmmm....now I know where all the Ravens went to that used to be here. :(

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  2. I take it they do "strut" about instead of hopping as more "ordinary " birds do. It gives them a definite swagger.

    I fear mankind tends to underestimate the intelligence of our feathered fellows. Be warned. Six ravens could come up with some pretty ingenious plans to let the horses out or something....break into the feed room....steal lead ropes...turn on the lights...Better stop, they probably read your posts and will get ideas. *G*

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  3. Love your pictures and tale of the Ravens!
    We used to have crowds of crows that would swoop into our forest in SC. They were so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. I bet these guys are pretty vocal. What fun!

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  4. We've been graced with some Magpies in the same way. I love watching their antics.

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  5. Outstanding shots--ravens are simply too smart by half. Have watched them play the drop & fetch game, but you caught the action! Love 'em.

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  6. Those ravens are a hoot, er, caw!

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  7. Brilliant! Ravens rock.

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  8. Hide all your shiny things.

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  9. Six roudy Raven's that's all... My favorite friends.. gregarious, roudy and fun.. the way it should be.

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