Nature Note #180: Raven Trails
As I was driving home from work this evening, exhausted and glad to be done, I saw a bird flying over my car. It was large with long, black wings, a thick bill, and a wedged tail. It soared and looped on wide wings seeming to test each breath of air, each bank, each twist, as it lazily, yet masterfully trailed my car before disappearing behind the trees along Harris Road. I was being trailed by a raven.
This seemed unusual given the time of year. Ravens are birds associated with Norse mythology, birds of the frozen north and mysterious ones at that. While New York is home to four species of corvids (which is the collective name for members of the crow and jay family).
One species you are going to see in Central New York in the summer months are the mild-mannered families of American crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) that hop from branch to limb while you walk down a trail or speed past along the road. The parents watching warily, cawwing warnings to their children to get out of the way or to beckon them towards and easy meal. Their so ubiquitous, it's amazing that more people don't notice their quiet, retiring chatter as they recline in the leafy shade of a tree on a hot summer's day. It won't be until winter that their loud calls on transit to their communal roosts will ring out once more.
The other likely candidate is the blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata) musing softly in the trees or popping above the canopy to survey their abode on high. Known mainly for their brash behavior and loud calls, their table manner at bird feeders is atrocious as they swipe seeds and make off with the goods, scaring away other birds whilst doing so. Maybe it's been the heat that has tempered their vitriol and calmed their blue-blazer attitude to the world.
While these two corvids are common, the very fact that I was able to see a raven was special indeed. The common raven (Corvus corax) has a special place in my heart as a watcher and a great traveler. Ranging from the frozen woods of Alaska and Canada, down over most of the western United States and in sporadic locations throughout the Northeast, they tend to be found in wild places. Habitats such as untouched forests, grasslands, deserts, and tundra are preferred but, they do on occasion, like the bird I saw, come close to civilization.
This isn't unheard of as in Alaska, they are effectively the main scavenger apart from gulls and bald eagles (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) and will even dine amongst wolves and bears to obtain food during the harsh winters. In fact, in certain parts of Canada and Alaska, they are known as "wolf birds" who soar over open territory and will follow wolf packs as they head out to make a kill.
While I don't know where this bird was headed or even if it had a destination in mind, I envied it. I envied the freedom to lift from this earth and soar and roll and frolic amongst the winds and breezes of the sky. I wanted to feel the rush of fear and excitement that would accompany me on my journey away from the world and into the up and beyond.
Little moments like this created and adored in my mind by my creative streak are almost immediately silenced by my scientifically oriented brain. It tuts at me and reminds me of the effort birds have to put into their flying and that while this bird might being doing well now, summer has a way of jading your prospects. All seems possible in the time of plenty as farmer's fruits ripen on the trees. Fish and turtles alike bask quietly in the calm pools of a small stream while dragonflies dance over the shimmering water. Life may seem perfect, but I am thankful that I don't have to sift through a rotting stump or field after field for insects or roadkill that might only fill my tummy for a day.
Alas, I digress. Besides, the raven being a bird has it easy. Fly up and away to the next prospect while I sit here, alone with my thoughts. I think to myself,
"Where to next, I wonder?"
This seemed unusual given the time of year. Ravens are birds associated with Norse mythology, birds of the frozen north and mysterious ones at that. While New York is home to four species of corvids (which is the collective name for members of the crow and jay family).
One species you are going to see in Central New York in the summer months are the mild-mannered families of American crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) that hop from branch to limb while you walk down a trail or speed past along the road. The parents watching warily, cawwing warnings to their children to get out of the way or to beckon them towards and easy meal. Their so ubiquitous, it's amazing that more people don't notice their quiet, retiring chatter as they recline in the leafy shade of a tree on a hot summer's day. It won't be until winter that their loud calls on transit to their communal roosts will ring out once more.
The other likely candidate is the blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata) musing softly in the trees or popping above the canopy to survey their abode on high. Known mainly for their brash behavior and loud calls, their table manner at bird feeders is atrocious as they swipe seeds and make off with the goods, scaring away other birds whilst doing so. Maybe it's been the heat that has tempered their vitriol and calmed their blue-blazer attitude to the world.
While these two corvids are common, the very fact that I was able to see a raven was special indeed. The common raven (Corvus corax) has a special place in my heart as a watcher and a great traveler. Ranging from the frozen woods of Alaska and Canada, down over most of the western United States and in sporadic locations throughout the Northeast, they tend to be found in wild places. Habitats such as untouched forests, grasslands, deserts, and tundra are preferred but, they do on occasion, like the bird I saw, come close to civilization.
This isn't unheard of as in Alaska, they are effectively the main scavenger apart from gulls and bald eagles (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) and will even dine amongst wolves and bears to obtain food during the harsh winters. In fact, in certain parts of Canada and Alaska, they are known as "wolf birds" who soar over open territory and will follow wolf packs as they head out to make a kill.
While I don't know where this bird was headed or even if it had a destination in mind, I envied it. I envied the freedom to lift from this earth and soar and roll and frolic amongst the winds and breezes of the sky. I wanted to feel the rush of fear and excitement that would accompany me on my journey away from the world and into the up and beyond.
Little moments like this created and adored in my mind by my creative streak are almost immediately silenced by my scientifically oriented brain. It tuts at me and reminds me of the effort birds have to put into their flying and that while this bird might being doing well now, summer has a way of jading your prospects. All seems possible in the time of plenty as farmer's fruits ripen on the trees. Fish and turtles alike bask quietly in the calm pools of a small stream while dragonflies dance over the shimmering water. Life may seem perfect, but I am thankful that I don't have to sift through a rotting stump or field after field for insects or roadkill that might only fill my tummy for a day.
Alas, I digress. Besides, the raven being a bird has it easy. Fly up and away to the next prospect while I sit here, alone with my thoughts. I think to myself,
"Where to next, I wonder?"
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