From the stars, on a mountain, with the bears, my beads…and paint.

I never understood the fascination with ravens. They seemed to be the spirit animal for beaded elders and yogis of the new age realm. But not long after we stopped moving all over the place and settled into our land in Vermont I started to notice these incredible birds.

There is a different quality to the outdoors when the leaves are on the ground, buried under snow. If you know winter, you know what I mean. Every sound seems more intense, more pure, more resonant. All the background noise is absorbed in the snow. You can see thru the trees that block the view all summer. Where I live the ravens play on air currents reflecting the shape of the mountains. Sometimes you can get lucky and hear 2 or 3 or more communicating between trees or across the valley. They light fifty feet up in the tops of giant white pines and chatter to each other, saying, “it is a glorious day from atop my tree! ” And then comes their rattling clicking sounds, back and forth from one to the other in turn. They’re lovely conversationalists with low gurgles or sometimes sound like angry women, “ack!”

With my back against the trunk of the white pine I want to catch every syllable. My whole body is listening. Can I please just always remember these songs to pull out when I need a moment of nature magic? There are quiet, almost nasal grinding sounds I can only hear when I stop breathing. They’re whispering the raven way. I wonder how they make these noises, so not-human. Are they coordinating who will find dinner or when to pick up the kids? There are quick staccato notes like a stubborn child practicing their scales on a piano, up and down over and over. “Hey, listen to me!” Some sounds are a warning about predators, announcing food opportunities, or calling in the neighbors to gather for a meeting. If I have to put raven music in a genre it would be categorized as pure play. Complete joy. Happiness. Celebration.

I’ve experienced ravens talking beyond the usual “caw!” only a handful of times, always in the mountains and always in the cold. They communicate the goings on they see from so far above, so different than my vantage point, gravity keeping me planted firmly on the ground. If I’m really quiet, I can hear the air moving against their feathers as they fly above, showing off, showing me what it’s like to be airborne.

Fun factoids about the Raven: They’re smart. Like, dolphin smart and able to figure out multi-step puzzles. They mimic sounds of all kinds so they might meow like your cat. They are the morticians of the sky, cleaning up dearly departed wildlife. They play, alone, with others, with sticks, slide on roofs, rocks, balls and other animals. Ravens live up to 17 years in the wild, or up to 40 as a pet. They hang out in young gangs eating and marauding together until they pair up to mate. A flock of ravens is called an UNKINDNESS, which seems sort of rude to me.

The art above is a scratchboard raven I did for an intensive I’m collaborating in called The A.R.T. of Becoming A Witch. I know, witch is a loaded word that gives off all sorts of smells! But this is fun and good and worthy and you can join. It starts this coming Sunday, March 26th on zoom and is all about deepening our awareness with our senses, using the animal, plant and mineral kingdoms as examples of knowing. Check it out! https://janetconner.com/art/