“It was better, I decided, for the emissaries returning from the wilderness…to record their marvel. In that way, it would go echoing through the minds of men, each grasping at that beyond out of which the miracles emerge and which, once defined,  to satisfy the human need for symbols.“- Loren Eiseley, The Judgement Of The Birds, The Immense Journey, 1946.

Symbols can be so beautiful sometimes, wrote Kurt Vonnegut in Breakfast Of Champions. A Raven has taken an interest in us, perhaps sensing that we are taking an interest in them. That’s how it works. To me, Ravens are a beautiful symbol, of me, and of our farm and our lives.

Maria heard a familiar sound way up in the sky this morning, and not knowing what it was or even where it was, she pointed her camera up to the sky and took this photo above.

It turns out it was a raven, flying over her way up in the clouds, a surprising capture that sends some chills up and down my spine.

She was astonished to look at the photo and see what she had captured.

From what I’ve been reading, I believe that the Raven was flying over Maria, knew she was there, and was sending her some kind of message – perhaps just a beautiful image – of the creature she would soon be capturing and was thinking about for her art.

Yesterday, I posted some sketches of ravens Maria uses as she works hard to learn how to make an image of a raven on a quilt or hanging piece, or fiber painting. Maria and I have different ideas about ravens.

She sees them as symbolizing the embrace of truth and reality. I see them as kindred spirits, a creature I relate to, loving, savvy, determined, independent, intelligent, astonishingly creative, and sometimes ruthless.

They do seem to fulfill my human need for symbols.

From Edgar Allen Poe down the ladder to biologists and ornithologists to biologists, bird scholars, and people like Maria and me, the Raven has captured imaginations and astonished researchers for a long time. They all say pretty much the same thing: Ravens do things that no one thought possible.

I’m reading one of the most thorough and respected books about Ravens,  Mind Of The Raven, by Biologist Bernard Heinrich of the University of Vermont. Henrich devoted much of his life to a s study of the ravels; he even raised four or five of them from birth and followed them through their lives.

Early in his book, Heinrich quotes Mark Pavelka, which studies Ravens for the United States Fish And Wildlife Service, as telling him: “With other animals, you can usually throw out 90 percent of the stories you hear about them as exaggerations. With Ravens, it’s the opposite. No matter how strange or amazing the story, chances are pretty good that at least some Raven somewhere actually did that.”

That, explained Heinrich, is because ravens are individuals; ants aren’t.

Heinrich became a Raven father, taking eggs from a raven next, feeding and raising them, freeing and studying them throughout their lives, feeding them the good they needed to grow and thrive.

Having developed a passionate interest in ravens over many years, and after “living on intimate terms” with them, he said, “I have seen amazing  behavior that I had not read about in the more than 1,400 research reports and articles on ravens in the scientific literature, and that I could never have dreamed possible.”

Heinrich, a trained and experienced biologist, said none of these journals captured or predicted the behaviors he was seeing. Something else was involved, so he became a “Raven Father” to learn more.

His goal, he said, was not to be authoritative. “I, instead, sketch the world of a magnificent bird that, as we shall see, has been associated with humankind from prehistoric times when we became hunters.

This turned out, he said, to be an exploration of the mind of an intelligent, resourceful, loving, loyal, and sometimes ruthless spirit. Ravens are creative in finding food, from raids on seabird nests to pecking open polyester packages at airports in search of food and to spot and escape predators.

They warn one another when there is danger, flock to support fellow ravens in trouble, and are very open to relationships with humans. These are fascinating birds, and I’m eager to learn more about them. Everything I learn about them makes me want to know them better.

Ravens have no desire to be pets, and I have no desire to make them into pets. I would love to get close enough to learn more about them.

After reading some of Heinriche’s findings, I think these ravens flying over our farm are aware of us and are sending a message. That’s what they do. They also gossip about us to other ravens.

I don’t know that I will ever understand the photo’s message or what it means; I may have to try to connect it to what is happening in our lives.

I think these ravens are adopting us. Evidence suggests they are just as interested in us as we are in them.