Raven Therapy Part Two

About a year ago I posted the first Raven Therapy story. The world had just shifted in ways that, at that point, we couldn’t really grasp. All I knew was that I needed therapeutic ravens, and that other people might need them too.

Formal raven couple, convinced that this trail has been groomed just for them

I turns out that, in the months since then, there were long periods when it was impossible to get up into the mountains and hang out with ravens — trails being closed to avoid crowding … or trails open, but too crowded to feel safe. On rare and happy occasions a raven or two would grace our neighbourhood.

As we mark the Covid anniversary (even with glimmers of light at the end of the tunnel) I definitely needed a booster dose of raven therapy. Perhaps you do too.

Resisting the covid with the corvid.

These are photos and videos from a couple of recent early morning trips to the local mountains.

Just in case you’re in a rush and don’t have time to read all of this at once, here’s the most potent shot of raven therapy first.

Ravens playing in the snow. In my humble opinion, there are few things more joyful.

If you have time to stay around, I’ll be sharing a few looks at the details of raven beauty and some more observations on their amazing behaviour. A veritable raven therapy spa experience!

Like crows in snow, I love photographing ravens in that pure white backdrop — especially on a nice cloudy day where all the details are revealed.

Raven catching just the softest rays of early morning sunshine

 

The intricate armour of a raven’s feet

Raven feet and feathers

Raven strut

 

Raven’s Leap — another excellent pub name!

Hearing a little more of the complicated raven vocabulary is always a thrill (see also Learning to Speak Raven.)

A snippet of raven conversation …

And a general “here I am” raven call …

Perhaps the most joyful sight was this behaviour between a raven pair.

Raven joins her mate

 

He feeds her. This is preparation behaviour for nesting season, where the female will beg for food from the male to trigger that instinct in him to keep her fed later in the season while she’s sitting on the eggs.

Just after this happened, I saw this rather funny exchange.

Raven couple standing together

 

A slight head movement …

 

Beaks touch …

The moment turns into a full examination of his beak for possible hidden snacks — say aaaah

 

 

 

For more raven therapy:

__________________________________________________________________________________________

© junehunterimages, 2021. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to junehunterimages with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Raven Therapy

I must confess, I’ve been “hoarding” these ravens since mid-March, working on prints of them as a consolation prize for not being able to get up to the mountains more than twice this winter.

It already seems like another lifetime when I took these photos in late February and mid-March — in the all too brief period between the “fractured foot” and “everything in the world has changed” eras.

On the first trip, it was sunny and lovely, and we saw a few ravens.

The most interesting raven moment that day was when we heard what sounded like a chipmunk being strangled in the shadow of a big tree  …

… and it turned out to be this raven noisily bringing up a pellet.

The second trip, just before the mountain trails were closed to the public, was mid-March. That precious day provided a small conspiracy of ravens and lovely soft light for photographing them.

If it had to be my last day of the winter to see them, it was a good one.

 

 

I should put in a special thanks here to my family who were on the trip and who waited, more or less patiently, while I was taking these photos and perhaps a few more.

While I do love my local crows, ravens are somehow a special treat. Even if I can’t see them for weeks at a time, I find the simple idea of their existence to be therapeutic.

When I couldn’t get up to the mountains for the early part of the winter, I watched this video of ravens playing with snowballs over and over again to tide me over. It seemed to speak to many people. I think it’s the most popular video I ever posted on my Twitter account, shared thousands of times.

I imagine they’re up there now, joyfully living their raven lives, with only trees and the skyline reflected in their all-seeing eyes. I’m sure they don’t miss the human company — except, perhaps their ill-guarded and easy to purloin lunches.

You can find some of these images and others now available as prints in my shop.

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________

© junehunterimages, 2020. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to junehunterimages with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.