Raven's Nest

Yesterday, I visited the raven's nest. The snow on the snowmobile trail was hard and crusted on this warm mid-April morning, and after a five-minute walk through the boreal forest, I reached a straight stretch in the trail and stopped. Ahead, in a clearing, was the raven's nest high in a towering poplar. From here, I could study the nest while remaining hidden in the trees.

I had discovered the nest in early March while x-country skiing on a snowmobile trail that cut through the old logged site. Willows and alders poked through the snow while towering thick poplars, bare of lower branches, dotted the landscape. At the far edge of the clearing, where the track dipped back down into the  spruce and pine, I found the snow-covered nest of sticks built where the tree trunk divided into multiple branches.  Fifty feet from this nest, in another poplar, was a second smaller nest. Why so close? I had read that ravens don't nest close to each other. Had a nesting pair built one, abandoned it and built another?

A few weeks after my discovery, I ventured up the snowmobile trail to the clearing. The snow had melted off the nests. Ravens flew high overhead and passed out-of-sight. From the edge of the clearing, I focused on the larger nest. No movement. As I lowered my binoculars a raven flew past the nest. Darn! Had forgotten to look at the smaller nest. I waited for the raven to return. A big raven flew toward me and landed on a tall spruce behind me and proceeded to cry out his deep territorial quorks. The female returned and settled onto a spruce near the nests. The male flew to the female and sat on a branch above the female. The male's wings trembled; the female's wings trembled and her tail wagged. Then, the female flew down the clearing followed by the male. The birds didn't return.

Early April and I returned for another check. As soon as I stepped off the road and onto the trail, I heard the male's deep voice calling. When I reached the clearing, I saw the female sitting in a spruce across from the nests. After a moment, she flew away followed by the male.

Near me a deep-throated tiny buzz sounded and two red squirrels scrambled down a tree and onto the crusted snow. They sped across the trail and, with one squirrel following close behind the other, the pair zig-zagged over the snow and into the forest. Silence. Buzz, buzz - I swung around and spied the squirrels racing towards me before veering off to sprint down the trail. As the squirrels disappeared, the female raven flew back and settled into a spruce. She didn't move, so I walked down the trail into the forest and turned around. In the poplar tree, the female sat on a branch beside the smaller nest. She sidled down the branch, stepped into it and settled down until her body disappeared. The pair was nesting!

Yesterday when I returned, the nest was quiet. No ravens called or flew. Were they still there? The male appeared and with flapping wings and spread-out tale, he landed on the branch beside the nest. The female hopped out, grabbed something from the male's beak, and hopped back into the nest while the male flew away. She must be incubating!

Incubation is for twenty-one days and I've calculated roughly when the eggs could hatch. Hatchlings stay in the nest for 6 weeks where they will reach adult weight. When they leave the nest, they stay with their parents for another 6 to 8 weeks as they learn to forage.

Nature has given me a gift as I watch the progress of the nesting ravens.

Raven Predators

The evidence was in the snow. Dark feathers scattered in the driveway under the window from where I looked.  Running outside, I followed the trail of feathers to spilled tree buds on the ground. Around the corner on the side of the garage was the predator - a raven feasting on a ruffed grouse. The large black bird flew away at my approach. The grouse's throat had been torn open to expose the tree buds it'd been eating. It's breast had been plucked bare, and was cold and soft. Not yet frozen.

Had the raven killed the grouse? I'd never heard of ravens actually killing something. Didn't they eat only carnage?  I disposed of the grouse carcass and feathers.

In the past two weeks, six ruffed grouse had returned each day to feed on the buds in the willow trees in my front yard. From beneath the low spreading branches of the large white spruce in the neighbor's yard, the birds crept out on the snow, flapped up to the fence, and walked along the round metal pole until they reached the first willow. After flying up to a heavy branch, the birds walked along this bridge that bent close to the next willow. Another flap and hop and the grouse would spread out in the big willow tree to feast on the buds. Branches bent as the heavy birds reached the thinner tips.

The grouse had appeared as usual in the late morning of the raven attack. In the afternoon, after I cleaned up the evidence, I went out to the willows to replenish the black oil sunflower seed in the bird feeders. Beside the snow trail through the lawn to the willows, I found more evidence - a hole in the snow the size of a grouse and imprints of raven feathers in the snow around the hole. I eyed the distance of the hole from the willow branches. If a raven had flown in from the street and attacked a grouse feeding out on a branch, the target would have landed in this area. Darn... wish I'd seen it!

After telling friends about the raven attack, I heard stories of ravens attacking live animals. Common observations were of ravens picking songbirds out of the sky. One friend had seen a cat surrounded by ravens in the street.  Then, I remembered an incident when I lived in Old Crow, Yukon. On a chilly fall day, I stood on the riverbank high above the frozen Porcupine River and watched four ravens peck continuously at a seagull they had surrounded on the ice. The large black birds jumped closer. The seagull flapped its wings, yet, no sound came from the birds.

An old man stopped to watch with me. The seagull was weakening under the attack. The elder and I walked on to let mother nature take her course.

Raven Antics

My ravens don't do antics. They don't slide or roll down snow-covered roofs or hills as reported elsewhere in news stories. Instead, they land in the driveway or under the feeders and pig out on sunflower seed. At one time, I counted 24 of the big birds in the driveway. But, I have trained them. When they see me moving at the big living room window or opening the front door, they know to leave. Of course, they're back within minutes. One day, when I was in the back yard putting out seed in the feeders, a group of 18 or so, flew lower in the sky as they passed by, and when they saw me, they continued on to bother the dogs down the road. If the ravens can't eat seed, they'll eat dog food.

They are smart survivors. Leave any garbage out, and within seconds, the black birds have found it. We've all seen instances of pick-ups parked at the grocery store, and ravens tearing open boxes and bags to get at food. Happened to us, but not from our vehicle, but from a boat. My husband and I, with some friends, were boating down the Yukon River from Dawson City to Ft. Yukon when we landed outside of Eagle, Alaska and walked into town. No ravens were around; never gave a thought about the cardboard boxes in the boats that contained groceries. When we returned to the boats, at first we were puzzled at seeing the top of the boxes torn, but, when we discovered a bread bag missing, we knew who the culprits were. The robbers had disappeared to eat their prize.

Ravens are fun to watch. In Whitehorse, there are clay cliffs bordering the town along the river, and ravens are always riding the thermals. In cold temperatures, they fluff out their leg feathers as they walk in the driveway. A raven will also fluff out its neck and throat feathers when annoyed at another raven. I've watched ravens using their big beaks to dig through sea weed or pick up sea urchins. And they are beautiful birds. When the sunlight shines on their feathers, the solid black becomes iridescent purples and blues; the feathers layered in intricate patterns.

I have seen one antic, and not with my driveway ravens. When driving this winter past a parking lot, I spotted two ravens on the ground. One lay sideways; the second one sat close by poking at a black rope or wire that the first raven lay on. When the bird stood up, the wire/rope stayed under its feet. Were its feet caught in the wire/rope?  I stopped and watched. The second raven tugged again at the wire/rope; the first raven lay back down and rolled around while holding onto an end of the wire/rope. The second raven flew away, and the first raven stood up triumphantly holding a stiff wire in its beak. It flew off with its prize.

There is one behavior that ravens do in Watson Lake that I've never seen anywhere else. They ride on vehicles! If someone is parked at the gas station or grocery store, there's a good chance that the raven sitting on the hood of their vehicle will hitch a ride. Like a hood ornament, the bird sits still and faces into the wind as the vehicle travels. After a few hundred yards, the raven flies away.

In the North, the Common Raven will always be part of our lives.