Raven Musings

The ice and snow got so bad a few weeks ago that on the ground were three crows, scrounging fallen bits of food from the frozen surface. It was a difficult time for even this notorious eater of everything and anything. The crow is reputed to be the most intelligent of all the avian kingdom, and can be trained to speak words like "hello" or "nevermore."

The crow fits into the human landscape quite well, but it has a close cousin which is a bird of remote mountains. This is the stately raven, which few encounter unless they live in the hills and know its voice, so unlike the high-pitched raucous call of the crow. The raven is another species which has moved in to Massachusetts and does not migrate away in the winter. However, it comes to us from the mountains of northern New England.

The raven is a widespread species, present in the mountain west as well as the east. Out west it thrives on the steep slopes and canyon walls of the younger Rockies. Here in the east the hills are old and stooped and the raven must search for the cliffs where it builds its nest and rears its young. Perhaps that is why it took so long for it to put down a foothold in Massachusetts. The few cliffs we have were once the home of the peregrine falcon. Once the falcon was eliminated by DDT fifty years ago, the raven could move in to fill that vacant niche. You can find this bird not too far from civilization nesting on Mt Tom and Mt Tekoa.

In the winter it ranges farther afield, but never strays too far except for the young birds which disperse to find their fortune. To find it then one has to drive up into the hills. Don't stop if you see several black birds in a tree or field. They are crows. But if you see only one or none in a houseless spot, then stop. A single bird in a tree top nearby might take off and give vent to its displeasure at being disturbed. You will stand among the silent, forested hills, and hear the deep, sonorous, heart-rending croak of the wild raven.

It can be a call that rends the heart, for this bird is usually found alone, and its hoarse call echoing down the steep valleys reminds us somehow of lost romance and departed lovers.

I was prompted to write of this bird by a Sunday night visit to CityStage, where I heard John Astin recite Edgar Allen Poe's familiar poem "The Raven." In the poem the raven comes tapping on the door of a man who has lost his love. The bird enters his chamber and sits on the statue of Pallas, the goddess of wisdom. The forlorn lover tries to elicit wisdom from the bird, but it speaks only of the finality of death and separation, offering the single word "nevermore"!

Poets often draw their images from the birds; from the owl, the dove and the lowly sparrow. The call and coloring of the raven and its reclusive habits lend it to the role of representing the lonely, sometimes terrifying night, when we feel most vulnerable. However, the raven is a bird of the daylight, and like all creatures a seeker of life and even love, not loss.

When spring comes they will mate and raise their young, and in the fall they will gather together in small groups, soaring and circling over their craggy mountain home, calling to each other. This is when they are at their best, pleasant company for each other and the intrepid hiker or hawk watcher. Unlike the crow their broad wings give them the gliding skill of a hawk, and sometimes twenty or more will fill the sky overhead.

Then if you are with another or others it will bind you together in closer communion. And if you are alone you may think of family and friends waiting for your return from the wild. And if they remind you of an absent love, it will only be with a sense of joy that you may soon be reunited.