Posted on 3 Comments

Saga of the Raven: Part Four

No raven gift yet today. Yesterday the raven left me the top of a hamburger bun (with sesame seeds). My grandson Jesse said, “Too bad he left it in the water.”

Two nights ago at about 11:30 PM or so, I heard a hideous screeching outside. It repeated a number of times. I thought it might be a coyote, screeching to attract a dog. I went outside to investigate. I ran into my new neighbor Danielle, who was walking her little dog. She had stopped to try to determine what those cries were from and where they were coming from.

The cry rang out again, like nothing I’ve ever heard, sort of a cross between a demon, a hawk and a medium-sized dog. Really creepy! I determined it was coming from the top area of my neighbor’s tall Atlas cedar tree. Then the call transformed into something familiar.

“It’s a great horned owl!”

I couldn’t see it it but I heard its “Hoo-hoo”. Mystery solved, except for figuring out why it was making that really weird call before its hoo-hoos.

3 thoughts on “Saga of the Raven: Part Four

  1. Howdy Mr. Stout,

    Sounds like omens, signs and portents to me. But seriously, all this bird activity might be an inspiration to your art? I wonder. Up here in the frozen nort’ we have red wing blackbirds, nuns, and grackles and even a robin that are pointing us to spring. I look forward to it. I envy you having that great horned owl around.

    Blessings and best wishes,

  2. @Aaron: Nature is often an inspiration for my art — probably more than anything else (other than a deadline. Now THAT’S inspiration!).

    Red-wing blackbirds are one of my favorite birds. We used to have them in the San Fernando Valley when I was growing up, along with robins. No more of either. I also loved western meadowlarks with their gorgeous yellow breasts. I can still whistle the meadowlark’s distinctive song.

  3. The ravens sometimes soften their food in the water. My crows did that with the old taco shells they used to bring to my birdbath when I live in LA. Now I’m in Fallbrook, and the crows don’t give me the time of day unless I leave something out for them.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *