Chances are that if I say “Raven” you will conjure up some sort of coherent images of this iconic bird. Be it evil omen, portend of good luck, battle bird, poetic messenger (think Poe), or symbol of wilderness, the Raven rarely lurks in the background of the human imagination or in our beliefs. Instead it inspires, reviles, and even defiles us in ways that render it impossible to ignore or dismiss.
Think of our language and how this bird has infiltrated the very way in which we communicate. Someone who we construe to be crazy can be said to be “stark raving mad’. Conversely, an attractive person may be ravishing. When we strongly desire something, we crave it, perhaps at a wild party commonly referred to as a rave, where we meet a striking lady with raven hair. Try to think of another species that has so colored our words and you may be hard-pressed. True, something strange can be fishy, but as with so many other animal-inspired words the allusion is a generic one. Of course, turnabout is fair play, so more than a few Ravens have been taught to speak some human words.
Just so it’s clear, I’m specifically referring to the Common or Northern Raven (Corvus Corax) in this article. Though the world is endowed with a variety of beautiful species in the genus Corvus that are referred to as “Ravens”, the Raven that is familiar to most people in northern cultures is this species. It has a vast range that extends from the Arctic Circle down to the Jungles of Nicaragua and from the west coast of the U.S. to our eastern seaboard - being mostly absent from the prairie and southeastern states. It is also a Holactic species that lives in the Old World from Britain, throughout much of Europe and well into Asia, including northern Japan. Within this vast range the Raven occupies an astounding varieties of habitats, including tundra, grasslands, woodlands, deciduous forest, coniferous forest, tropical forest and chaparral. Lacking human persecution, it is the ultimate in adaptable birds
You can easily distinguish Ravens from superficially similar American Crows (also in the genus Corvus) by a number of anatomical and aural differences. Starting with the latter, a standard Raven contact call is a throaty “croak” (their specific latin epithet is a case of them uttering their own name, as they croak “coraaax”) while the equivalent American Crow vocalization is a harsh “caaaw”. Many other sounds help to identify and separate each species, making it relatively easy to tell them apart by vocalizations alone.
Additionally, American Crows are much smaller than Common Ravens. They average around a pound in weight, depending upon the geographic population in question, while Ravens can surpass two pounds and even weigh as much as a Red-tailed Hawk! Crows have large beaks, while those of Ravens are relatively massive. Ravens sport a shag of feathers at the throat referred to as a beard that Crows lack. Ravens possess proportionately longer wings that allow them to glide and soar much more than their smaller, shorter-winged cousins. Also, the tail of a flying Crow appears squared off at the end while that of Ravens is wedge-shaped. If all of this sounds a bit confusing, simply remember that American Crows are not a normal component of our Sky Islands avifauna. They are mere vagrants in southeast Arizona, where Common Ravens are year-round residents. If you want to see a Crow in Arizona, then you have to travel up to Flagstaff, Prescott and other points North.
The real corvid confusion arises when you realize that the Sky Islands harbor not one, but two species of Ravens! In addition to Corvus corax, Corvus cryptoleucus (the specific epithet meaning “hidden white”, referring to their light-colored feathers at the base of the neck that normally remain unseen, and which account for their former common name - White-necked Raven) the Chihuahuan Raven, is a relatively common bird in our area. Though there are a number of palpable differences between them, telling these two species apart is not always an mundane task.
Common Ravens are quite a bit larger than their Chihuahuan cousins, averaging about a third again as heavy. The feathers covering the nasal area on the beak of a Chihuahuan Raven extend out further and their calls tend to be higher pitched. Further, they tend to nest in lower elevation sites in Arizona, especially in Mesquites and Soaptree Yuccas, whereas Common Ravens prefer higher nesting sites - often in cliffs or tall trees in forested areas. Finally, Chihuahuans can congregate in very large flocks - sometimes in the thousands - particularly at roosts. Commons tend to be, well, less common.
All this said, if you see a lone bird - obviously a Raven - flying close overhead you may still be at odds as to which species you’re seeing. I try to judge size and calls, as well as habitat differences, but I’d be kidding you if I claimed that I could identify every Raven I see in the Sky Islands! Adding to the conundrum is the fact that the two species sometimes form communal roost sites during the non-breeding season. Keeping this identification puzzle in mind, I had a wonderful encounter with both species about a decade ago.
While slowly driving along the eastern edge of the lofty Chiricahua Mountains I happened to spy a congregation of perhaps five Turkey Vultures at a road-killed Black-tailed Jackrabbit. Accompanying them were perhaps eight Ravens. Since both species would be relatively dwarfed by the Vultures, this provided no great clue as to their identity. As the Vultures easily dominated their fellow scavengers, who occasionally tried to sneak closer to the meal or to pull at a tempting tail feather, a new arrival swiftly solved the mystery. Flying just overhead of the melee was a Raven much larger than those below - a Common Raven. Juxtaposed next to each other, it was very easy indeed to separate the two species.
Beyond the “big, black bird” part, I would be remiss not to mention some of the roles that Common Ravens have played in human cultures across the enormous expanse where the two species overlap. Edgar Allen Poe could not have chosen a more fitting symbol of Nature to deliver a mournful message in his poem named after this ominous bird. Tracing back the thread of connectivity, it seems obvious that the English settlers of America brought over their dread of Ravens from Britain. This in turn was spawned by the fact that the Vikings - their often enemy - carried a Raven standard as their battle bird into often successful frays with the Brits. Thus, one man’s battle bird is another’s harbinger of death.
Odin, the equivalent of Zues among the Vikings, had two special Ravens, Thought and Memory, that each day would set forth to discover the secrets of the world which they later would whisper only to him. This helped to account for his omnipotence. In fact, had the Viking’s original settlements on the eastern coast of Canada panned out, perhaps our national symbol would be a Raven, not a Bald Eagle. Going a step further, maybe the White House would instead be black! If these musings stir some sort of visceral and indignant patriotic thought, then ponder just how much hatred of Ravens has biased our culture against the color black!
Leaving you that to consider, also keep in mind some of the numerous other roles the Raven has been cast into via its Homo sapiens consorts. In the Old Testament of the Bible, the first bird that Noah entrusted to find land was not a Dove, but a Raven. True to form, it simply flew off, never to return. The presumption is that it indeed located terra firma, but decided that telling humans was of no great consequence! Still, Ceylonese mariners often entrusted Ravens to find land while sailing in the briny deep of the Indian Ocean. Likewise, Ravens purportedly helped the Vikings to first locate Iceland.
Some Native American cultures of the Pacific Northwest cast Raven into the dual roles of Creator and Trickster. As the former, Raven helped to bring humans into the world, sometimes placing the Sun in the Sky and bringing light to an otherwise perpetually black world. Indeed, the Bella Bella identified Raven as “One Whose Voice Is to Be Obeyed”. Conversely, the same Raven might well temporarily lose his beak while up to some crafty tomfoolery or sexual exploits in a different story by the same culture. The Koyukon people of Alaska historically entreated a passing Raven to “drop them a basket” as it passed overhead. Should the bird in question turn over while in flight, then the man or woman might expect some good fortune in the near future. It seems that the diametrically opposed roles of Creator and Trickster were easily shouldered by Raven!
Closer to home, Athabaskan-speaking Apache - likely having migrated to the Southwest from Canada where even more “Raven-identifying” cultures prevailed - credited the Raven as having brought game animals into the world. This, no small feat given the supreme importance of hunting among these people. These few examples are but the proverbial tip of the iceberg when it comes to the myriad of associations between people and Ravens. For further reading, peruse In the Company of Crows and Ravens by Marzluff and Angell for an excellent overview of the topic.
Truly, the Raven always seems to play a key role for humans, regardless of what it specifically represents. Given an intriguing hypothesis that Raven biologist Bernd Heinrich poses in his excellent books, Ravens in Winter and Mind of the Raven, one is left to ponder just how these charismatic birds see humans. Namely, Heinrich poses that Ravens, being the quintessential scavenger and a strong flier, often encounter large carcasses (say, a Deer) before other partakers of dead bodies. This poses a dilemma, as aside from the anus and the eyes, Ravens are normally unable to make any significant intrusions into the would-be meal.
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