"A Conspiracy of Ravens"

I saw a conspiracy of five ravens soaring above Sucia Island. Everyone else thought they were eagles, but when's the last time anyone saw five immatures flying together? Besides, I've never seen eagles--of any age--playing grab-ass while they play the winds. Later I got a clear ID on one massive member of the conspiracy, who I spied lurking on the ground by the Ranger Station up on shore.

It's said that ravens, even more so than crows, have a great range of vocalizations, with 15 to 30 different "words" or "calls," used mostly for social interaction. Wikipedia says, "If a member of a pair is lost, its mate reproduces the call of its lost partner to encourage his return." I wonder if each bird's call is its name in Ravenese. Maybe they sit around boasting, "I'm John, I'm John" and if John doesn't show up one night, his mate wails, "John, John" into an empty sky.

It's been ten years since I last saw a raven, big and fearless, devouring a salmon on a boat ramp. Only an eagle could have taken that fish away. I suppose if size matters, our national bird reigns supreme. But if technique counts, the intelligent raven, sometimes mistaken for a soaring eagle, can cleverly steal the crown. Smartest of birds, with a 30-word language, they form a cultured community of rascals. We call it a "conspiracy."

Randy Rowland