BY LESLIE REGO
It was early in the morning and cold outside. The streets were deserted. My husband and I were in our car looking for an open coffee spot when I happened to notice a dark movement. I turned my head and spied a raven perched on a garbage can peering deep into the recess. The raven, a dark mass, was silhouetted against the early morning light.
Candace Savage narrates a story about the raven’s plumage in her book, “Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies and Jays.” Savage writes, “In the olden days, the raven and the peacock were close friends who lived on a plantation. One day, the two birds decided to amuse themselves by painting each other’s feathers. The raven set willingly to work and so surpassed itself that the peacock became, as it is today, one of the most beautiful birds on earth. Unwilling to share its glory even with its friend, the mean-spirited peacock painted the raven plain black.”
In the myth, the raven might be described as plain black, but this morning the feathers glistened. He stretched his head inside the can and pulled out a paper bag with the detritus of someone’s dinner. The bird hopped to the street, the heavy bag grasped in his powerful beak. The beak tore and ripped the bag. The claws grabbed onto the edge, anchoring the sack, to facilitate with the despoiling. The food fell out and the raven began to feast.
More movement and I saw two other ravens arrive. They chased off the first raven and continued to shred the bag, enjoying the remnants. The first raven returned, trying to defend his “catch.” He flew low and I could clearly see the wedge-shaped tail that identifies a raven in comparison to the fan-shaped tail of a crow.
The raven circled, anxious to get his food. The other ravens gave chase. In the air, they hovered over one another, claws extended. The wingspan was huge and I could spot the lone feathers at the wingtips. The wings extended flat, not in the V-shape of the crow. The birds somersaulted around one another. It was quite the display of power and squatting rights.
I watched the unfolding drama in awe. The raven might not have the bright plumage of the peacock, but the bird certainly has theatricality. The spectacle of the ravens flying and tumbling through the sky seemed to be poetry in motion.
Leslie Rego is an Idaho Press Club award-winning columnist, artist and Blaine County resident. To view more of Rego’s art, visit leslierego.com.