Ravens

Those of you who know me, or who have read Raven, Tell A Story, know that ravens are my favorite birds. Here in Anchorage I have been spending much time watching them. Out walking this morning I was practically stunned by the noise a raven was making in a tree above me. I thought I was familiar with most of the sounds that ravens make — and they make so many various sounds! — but this was really something. He (or she) was using his (or her) whole body to get that sound out, and all I can say is that it was big and deep and glassy, and it was reverberating against the wall of the building next to the tree. Then I sensed something behind me, turned, and there was a car. And I realized I was standing in the middle of the street (a side street fortunately). But the woman driving the car was grinning and only creeping at about 2 mph, so it was no problem. The raven was pretty well hidden in the spruce tree, so she probably wondered what I was looking at.

I arrived here on Wednesday afternoon and today is Sunday, and we have had at least 3 days of wind. There is nothing in between my building and the wind as it comes across the inlet from the north, and my apartment faces north. Out my window to the northeast the American flag and the Alaska state flag on top of the Captain Cook hotel are snapped out fully.

And ravens have been playing on the wind all day long. Really playing. They fly sideways, even backwards at times as they hover and let the wind blow them. I’ve seen them roll up one wing and do a dive roll. I saw a trio of ravens hover and begin to land on the edge of a roof, and one couldn’t land, he just kept hanging in the air until he gave up and flew on, followed by his mates.

I never see just one raven. They are always in threes or fours.

And here’s something else I love about them: they commute. I swear it’s true. Every day after sunset as the light begins to fade, you can look up and see ravens flying away from the city, away from the inlet, toward the mountains. When my parents lived high above the city on the hillside with the mountains more or less in their backyard, I would notice the commuting ravens flying over my head when I was out walking after sunset in the winter months (I’m not as familiar with ways of ravens in the summer… since there’s light right up until 11pm, I wonder if they head to mountains early, or if they stay up?). Sometimes I’d even hear them talking amongst themselves as they flew, like they were telling each other about the kind of day they’d had. Who’d found the best dumpster meal, or had found the best treasure in a shopping cart outside of Costco, that kind of thing. You can see why I love ravens.