One last trip to the mountains before the spring melt makes the trail impassable. Also the last trip before our month away in the UK.
Of course, I hoped that this excursion would include a little raven farewell — but it seemed as if that were not to be.
I wasn’t surprised by their absence — the last few times out there we’d witnessed courting behaviour, mating and, most recently, nest building — so clearly the ravens are busy and probably staying close to those new nests.
We headed out early yesterday morning amid rapidly melting snow conditions — the only humans crazy enough to be on the trail. The going was sloppy and difficult, and it was clear that in the next day or so, the little snow bridges over open water would be washed away and the path would be even worse.
Phillip preparing to cross Wet Boot Creek — you just never know when the snow bridge is going to give way and give you that soaking surprise!
All the way along the trail, starting in the parking lot, I called out my amateur raven greetings. Once or twice, a raven flew by before disappearing into the misty trees.
The view at Dog Mountain was lovely when we arrived, with just a few wispy clouds garlanding the city.
I kept on with my raven calling, but only succeeded in confusing the resident Steller’s jays again.
We waited, ate some trail mix. I kept quorking my enticing raven greetings and we waited some more.
After an hour or so, the clouds rolled in and a cold wind picked up. At this point, both Phillip and Geordie expressed the opinion that it was time to give up on ravens for the day.
All the way back I stopped to call every few minutes. As I mentioned, we were the only people out there — otherwise, I’d probably have been too embarrassed to keep it up.
Hope springs eternal. I kept calling even as we walked through the ski hill parking lot and back to the car. No ravens.
By then, even I had given up, so I took off my snow boots and changed into my Blundstones for the ride home. We sat in the car; I unwrapped a granola bar; Phillip started the engine and began to pull out onto the road.
And then he arrived — my Last Minute Raven came from nowhere to casually land right in front of the car.
Was it the famous tricky raven sense of humour, to watch me do my crazy calls all day while chuckling knowingly from the forest? Was it the imperceptible rustle of granola bar wrapper from inside the car? Pure luck?
Whatever — I never, ever look a gift raven in the beak!
I was out of the car immediately and wading about in the slush in my unsuitable city boots.
I’m assuming this raven was a “he” as only one appeared and I would think the female of the pair would be on the nest at this time of the breeding season.
Playing with a dried leaf
Soaring about in the misty forest
Making soft calls with wide-open beak
Just passing the time of day …
Rarely have soaking wet feet been so worthwhile! I was very happy to have that last raven visit before we leave on our trip. The next ravens I see will either be at the Tower of London or in Snowdonia.
Footnote: Ironically, when we got home, I heard a raven flying around right behind our house, driving the local crows mad. It was as if he was saying — you could just have stayed home and had dry feet. As I mentioned, these birds have a great sense of humour.
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P.S. A reminder that my shop will be closed starting at the end of Friday, April 12 and reopening on May 23.
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