Ravens in Mourning

The answer to “Do Ravens Mourn?” is yes. They do.

The last Raven baby died sometime during Saturday night. (See last post.)

Throughout the day Sunday, I occasionally heard Aida begging for food in a random tree or on a random hillside, and knew when Edgar was feeding her by the excited caws she gives off while he puts food in her mouth.

In the afternoon I heard a very strange noise I’d never heard before, and I hunted it down, or rather up. In a tree, Aida was snuggled close to Edgar, grooming him, giving off low, tender rumbles. Edgar sat still, accepting the caresses, and, I swear, looking sad.

At times they would fly to the nest tree, sometimes sitting and snuggling together on a high branch; once I saw them fly to the tree and sit on the rim of then nest, looking in, as if to see if anything had changed, or as if to think, well, what now?

I threw dog food out in the evening; Edgar flew down and gobbled up the bits. Aida flew in, landed a few feet away, and as Edgar walked up to her, she gave her excited food call and crouched and fluttered her wings as he fed her, just as they’d done in the nest for the last 2 weeks.

Ravens are believed to mate for life, so maybe these two will carry on together, stay in this area, and try again to nest here next spring. 

I’ll know for sure it’s Aida by her unusually high-pitched voice, and by Edgar, who lets me come close and talk to him.

Yet another storm coming through on Sunday.