A Conspiracy of Ravens - Jan 30 2022

 

A Conspiracy of Ravens

Jan 30 2022

A murder of crows.

But their cousins, the raven

are more subtle creatures

than their lethal kin  —

if not murderous

then unkind, treacherous

conspiratorial.

Even in winter

these big raucous birds

insist on black.

No snow-white camouflage

like their northern counterparts,

the fox, the bear

the arctic hare.

Where even the falcon

in its arctic plumage

complies;

like silenced guns

their deadly headlong dives

depend on stealth.

Although peregrines

are not given to assembly,

so for them a collective noun

seems pointless;

like true assassins,

they are solitary

as well as concealed.

While ravens menace, congregate, caw,

as intimidating a presence

as the slouching teens

and defiant young men

who hang out on strip-mall parking lots

and sketchy city sidewalks,

cluster by the doors

of all-night corner stores.

But also just as smart, and misunderstood.

Like young goths

who too favour black, and like it loud,

but will grow up to become

clerks and middle managers

and sober tax accountants.

Who can be unkind

on cruddy Monday mornings;

threatening snack machines

that eat good money,

conspiring

to take an extra-long lunch.

There was a piece by Kevin Patterson in this weekend's Globe about the first cases of Covid in a small Nunavut community. This paragraph stuck with me. It seems odd to find it in this context, but it makes more sense when you realize that he uses these birds as a metaphor for skepticism about western medicine among some Inuit.

I've tended to lump ravens and crows together, and have previously written about "a murder of crows." But these expressions — an "unkindness", a "treachery", a "conspiracy" — for a collective of ravens were new to me. My first response was why so many terms? Perhaps this speaks to our fascination with these birds. The second response was how flattering, in its dark way: words that allude to more subtle, clever, insidious behaviour than outright homicide.

Anyway, I thought this would be fun to noodle around with. As usual, where it ended up surprised me as well!

(As an aside, there actually are collective nouns for peregrine falcons: among them "tower", "eyrie", and "bazaar".)

During my current visit to Naujaat, after days of blizzarding, it becomes difficult to remain inside. Walking through the wind, hunched over, trying hard to remain standing, I see ravens fly low and close. There seem to be more this year than previously; a group of them – the collective noun is “an unkindness” – numbers about 20 and they hover close to the health centre and the hamlet office, rising raucously as I approach. They have always been flagrantly counter-intuitive creatures. Other animals – the bears out on the ice, the hares, the foxes, the snowy owls, the ptarmigan, the peregrine falcon – are white in the winter, to elude predators, or to help them predate. These ravens are as jet black as they are huge. They look big enough for a falcon to feed off one for days. It isn’t like they would be hard to see.