A Gathering of Ravens
October 11, 2007
You never know when the Raven People are going to teach you something. It always comes as a surprise and afterward, you can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourself.
Let me give you an example.
I was driving the rocky dirt road that winds from my house on Papalote Wash toward the paved road five or six miles away – going to a meeting in Tucson.
There is something to be said for bad roads and steep hills and slow driving. I have plenty of time to notice everything around me, from the pale dry winter grass to four blue-black ravens slowly circling a gently rounded hill.
When I noticed the ravens they were just beginning their descent onto that hill.
It wasn’t until then that I saw that there were other ravens – maybe a hundred, maybe more – already walking there as casually as any earth-bound creature might.
Ravens on the ground may lack the grace of ravens in the air, yet the sight of that crowd mingling, constantly moving as they called out in their hoarse, exuberant voices was something to remember forever.
Of course I stopped the truck and stood there in the road looking up, wishing I could join them, wondering about the purpose of the gathering.
It could have been some academic conference or major political event where people stop to greet one group and then move on to another and another.
Everything seemed to be in constant motion, a fluid choreography perfectly designed and perfectly executed – and all the participants in sophisticated black. (I felt somewhat out of place in faded jeans.)
Much as I yearned to stay, I finally got into my truck. If I left at that moment, I knew I would be only slightly late for my meeting in Tucson.
But by the time I reached the next hill (where my cell phone works) I was calling Tucson to say, “I’m so sorry, but something has come up and there’s no way I can leave here today.”
Actually, I was not lying.
Of course I turned around and drove back to the ravens. This time I leaned against a large boulder where I had a good view of the hilltop, but where I hoped the ravens would not notice me. After all, their meeting obviously was by invitation only, and I was not invited.
We have all read about the complexity of raven language. We know their vocabulary is tremendous and that mating pairs of ravens use special words, spoken only to each other.
On that day it was a language of raucous free-spirited joy carried on the wind. Listening to raven voices, I knew I had done well to give up my own meeting to attend theirs – even from a distance.
However, I might as well admit that, being human, I was still asking why? I wanted to know the exact purpose of the magical event I was witnessing. I wanted a few facts.
But the ravens, being ravens, do not care what humans want. We might as well accept it.
Less than an hour from the moment I first saw them, the ravens had adjourned.
As they called out their goodbyes and lifted into the afternoon, I walked up on the hill where they had been.
It wasn’t hard to see that ravens know something about meetings which humans never have learned. They choose a perfect day and a perfect hill. They choose a light breeze and billowing clouds and distant mountain ranges.
Compare that to the indoor meeting I passed up that day.
That’s why I said you never know when ravens are going to teach you something.
When it comes to holding meetings, I now follow their example.
I gladly attend meetings on hilltops where you can see forever, or under a tree on an arroyo bank, or out in open desert at the perfect time of day or night.
But the ones indoors, I usually have to miss.
Copyright 2007 Byrd Baylor
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Hi.
Great article on the ravens. There’s a good book on ravens, including communications, by Berndt Heinrich. You may have already read it, but it may have something to say about the confab you saw.