As the days grow colder and darker, I find myself retreating into stories of faraway or imagined places. This year I resolved to read more poetry and have been steadily making my way through tales of heartbreak, friendship, and grief told through numerous different lenses. From tarot cards to Tim Burton movies, the occult inspirations woven into each poem are limitless. So of course we had to talk about a bird who has been inspiring us for centuries; someone that I would venture to call one of humanity’s greatest muses. This month’s bird is the Common Raven (Corvus corax), known as Fiach dubh as Gaeilge.
The mist floats all around you, as if you are viewing the world through a ghost’s grey, translucent skin. You cannot see more than ten metres in front of you, and a thrill runs down your spine as you peer over the side of the mountain, seeing the slope running off into nothing. You tread slowly because it feels like a sin to make a sound when the silence is unbroken. Through the fog, a huge shape looms, perched on the silver pole of a long forgotten sign. In the damp weather, their feathers are slicked black, turning them into a silhouette. A huge scythe of a beak points north as they gaze further up the mountain. You stop, but too late; they’ve seen you, and take to the air with a harsh, bark of a call. Massive wings unfurl to reveal dainty wingtips, spread like fingers. A diamond-shaped tail streams behind them as they gain altitude, before corkscrewing into a dive and disappearing into the mist.
The stately raven of the saintly days of yore; birds that are as impressive as they are imposing. They have been crowned the heaviest corvid in the world, reaching up to 2kg in weight; are tied for largest corvid alongside their cousins, the thick-billed raven of east Africa; are comparable to the size of birds of prey like the buzzard, which they frequently get mistaken for. And, they also happen to be the most widely distributed corvid on Earth. Citizens of the northern hemisphere beware, because this bird can be found everywhere from the U.S. to Europe, to Asia. In fact, some of the photos in this very article are of ravens we spotted in Canada. (Who are most likely the sinuatus subspecies, whereas we have the corax here in Ireland.) Originally ravens evolved in the Old World and made their way over to North America when the Bering Sea between north-eastern Russia and Alaska was land, during one of the various ice ages. For comparison, the most recent glacial period was between 26,000 and 20,00 years ago and is when humans were thought to have entered North America, thousands of years after the ravens did.
The history of the ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore, is reflected in their name, which is composed of nothing more than the Latin and Greek words for “raven” respectively. The word has cognates in many other Germanic languages, including the Old Norse hrafn. And the Irish name just means “black raven”, though fiach can also translate to mean “hunt” or “debt”, reflecting the birds’ ominous repute.
Is it any wonder that this ebony bird, who’s so widespread and well known, features in mythologies from around the globe? Here at home, they are associated with The Morrigan, alongside other corvids like the hooded crow. The Morrigan is a figure who portents war and other ill omens, famous for shapeshifting into a raven and landing on the fierce warrior Cú Chulainn’s shoulder when he died, to claim his spirit. Other prominent raven figures in mythology are Huginn and Muninn, who travelled the world to collect information for the Norse God Odin. They also appear as symbols, like on the coat of arms of the Isle of Man, and as the national bird of Bhutan. When we were in Vancouver earlier this year, we saw the raven depicted in totem poles carved by the Musqueam and Squamish peoples, and the Haida Native Americans believed the raven is the god of Creation. And there are also, of course, the ominous legends as well; in Sweden they are known as the ghosts of murdered people; in Germany, as the souls of the damned.
How does a bird manage to garner such a gory reputation that transcends cultures? The answer may lie in their diet: ravens are opportunistic feeders who will eat dead and dying animals, as well as human waste. Feasting on fallen soldiers after a battle or the remains of a fox on the side of the motorway, this ungainly creature doesn’t mind either option. They can be a little wary of carrion, but will swoop in when other corvids have led the way and proven it is safe. A clever strategy to ensure they don’t fall ill. It has led to their association with wolves, to whom the ravens are considered kleptoparasites — scavenging off of a wolf pack’s kills in winter, but also leading them to potential prey that only they can see from the air.
Their uncanny intelligence is as much to blame as their diet for their reputation. This ominous bird of yore can do about as well as adult chimpanzees and orangutans on tests of casual reasoning, social learning, and theory of mind. They can communicate about objects that are distant in space and time; are great problem solvers who can learn through trial and error; can acknowledge fairness and will choose to stop cooperating with other ravens who have been observed cheating in group tasks. Which means they are capable of cheating or deceiving. They have been seen pretending to bury food just to confuse and mislead other ravens who would steal it.
And not only is this bird a portent of evil things to come, you may even hear one utter a curse upon you with a dark and ominous voice. Yes, that’s right, these clever birds can be taught to speak. Say a phrase enough times to a raven and you will hear a reply so aptly spoken, so bizarrely similar to your own voice, owing to their talent of mimicry. Their call is unlike that of any corvid I’ve heard, a deep prruk-prruk-prruk that almost evokes the baying of a hound. Other vocalisations include a high toc-toc-toc, a grating kraa, a low guttural rattle, and calls that sound like a carefree melody. They are also one of the few species that engage in play. Known for their aerial acrobatics, to see them chase each other through the air is to almost know the joy of flying itself. Some other examples are sliding down snowbanks for fun and making their own toys by breaking off twigs from branches.
So much more could be said about these lovable, admirable, detestable birds. Watch yourself when you’re out and about this Halloween, you wouldn’t want to be caught playing tricks you shouldn’t be. And if you think you haven’t been spotted; are safe from prying eyes, well. Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”