Blogtober Two: Avian Conversations

 

The crow in this photo, taken at the ocean the other day, reminded me of a conversation with a raven we had while in the mountains last month. 

Four of us were eating dinner outdoors. A large raven strutted through our campsite talking a mile a minute. We couldn't understand a word he said, but his querulous tone let us know that he was not pleased that we were being fed and he was going without. 

He flew up and landed on the other picnic table, scolding us all the while. My brother-in-law got up to shoo the raven off the table. In response the raven picked up a roll of paper towel and flew off into the forest. He dropped the roll and alighted in a tree.

More chatter. When my brother-in-law tried shooing him away, the raven hid behind the tree, peeking his head out and chortling. Seriously. He was laughing at my BIL's frustration with the paper towel roll now in the midst of the forest. Soon we all laughed with him.

Our campsite was on the rocky point in the left of this photo, hidden by trees. If you look past the point you might notice a white rectangle. That's a train. It went by several times during the nights, rattling and shaking our camping trailer and sounding like it was coming right through the window. After the second night, we barely heard it. I found the train's whistle quite haunting and melodic, not shrill at all. If you camp in the mountains in BC or Alberta, you can almost be guaranteed to have trains nearby. 

While out kayaking, the train's whistled echoed across the water. Utterly beautiful. 

The conversation with the Great Blue Heron was of a different sort - mostly silent. Poised and watchful, his head turned to keep me in view as I paddled by. "Don't come too close," he seemed to say, picking up his feet to shift a little. 

Soon it was, "I've had enough, you are too close," and he lifted his ungainly body with powerful wings, legs dangling, and flew off in a blur to land in a tall tree. 

I'm not very athletic and dislike team sports. But kayaking, hiking, and swimming suit me. I like being able to dawdle and take the time to really look at where I am. We kayaked up to these falls on one of the little rivers feeding Kinbasket Lake. 

That was last month. Autumn has arrived here, and there, too. Soon ice and snow will line the edges of the little river, and perhaps it will freeze over. 

Here on Vancouver Island the air is cool with whispers of autumn even as the sun beats down. It was a puttery day of writing, buying a few groceries, discarding vases of dahlias and zinnias, going to the library, and making dinner. One of those ordinary days that make up much of life. 

Thanks for reading along with Blogtober!