Missus Comes To Breakfast

Day 248: It was a feeling. At first, I thought that it was because this bird seemed just a little more wary of me than the one in my May 27 post, but then I said to myself, "No, there's some physical difference, I'm just sure of it." When I took the previous image and put it side-by-side with this one, I could see that the beak was a little shorter, the nasal bristles a little more extensive, the top of the head a little more domed and the legs a little more dainty. "Missus!" I exulted. "Missus is off the nest!"

Ravens partner for life. They share nesting duties, and parents are often aided by the previous year's offspring in caring for the newly hatched young. Ravens do not flock like Crows, so if you see several together, they are most likely a family unit. Mister and Missus have been "married" for a couple of years now. I was privileged to watch their courtship and their young love. Let science deny it if they will persist in wearing blinders, the long-term Raven watcher knows that a mated pair holds each other in great affection: kissing, romping, playing good-natured pranks and so on. These behaviours are but a few examples I could cite from my observations of the pair. These birds' first two nests produced no offspring, no baby Ravens for them to educate to Raven language and society under my vigilant eye. Today, though, when Missus left the feeder board and flew into the woods with her crop full of dog food, I heard something which made me smile quite broadly: the high-pitched monosyllablic cry of at least one cranky, hungry baby somewhere near the Courtship Tree.