Ravens

Gathering at Sunrise.

Once during a winter trip to Tofino, I shared a moment with five raven's during the dawn.  
It was surreal.

We just sat there in the snow together all sleepy eyed, watching the rising light spread across the sky, ocean and snow.  Everything glowed, everything sparkled, I registered nothing but the company of the birds and the shared experience of welcoming the dawn.  I felt like my entire ‘being’ was waking as the sun rose.  

My husband came outside and broke the spell by being all freaked out about it.  The giant birds pulled themselves to their feet with rustles and what sounded like barks.  Then rather reluctantly it seemed, stumbled up from the snow and into staggered flight.

He said he never saw anything like it before.  
I thought it was kinda groovy.

The day before, I had smoked a little of something called shaman weed.  It was a mixture of herbs and plants you could find in nearly any herbal garden, it contained no THC, or Magic, or any kind of hallucinogenic or psychedelic ingredients.  It did include colts foot, and it did indeed smell like a barn.  Maybe the weed had something to do with it.  If so, it sure stayed in my system a while.

I bought it in Tofino from a gorgeous store that sold Tibetan singing bowls, various drums, tumble stones, crystals, real witching brooms made from hay and curvy sticks.
You know the kind of place.

The owner sternly explained to me its uses, “It simply relaxes you, brings you to a slightly higher mental plane.”  And told me not to buy it if I was looking to get high.  

I must have convinced him of my basic understanding of Shamanic concepts, and my sincerity, as he finally and cheerfully wrapped it up with my other purchases of Sweet Grass,
A small crystal and some tumble stones chosen for protection, clarity of thought, and intuition. Strong smelling Incense from India, and Herbal smoke, something to burn and inhale.  It is supposed to help cleanse the whole bronchial system.    It seemed counter intuitive to use a kind of smoke to assist with the quitting of smoking and it smelled and tasted horrible.  But I did feel like I was breathing deeper and easier, making not smoking a more enjoyable experience.

He then gave me the traditional bow associated with hello and good bye; ‘Namast’ a  recognition of our shared divinity, our connection to the universe.  A lovely practice, a nice reminder of who you are and who you are interacting with.
I personally feel quite humbled, even slightly embarrassed when I receive or give it, like I’m not worthy of such a salutation.  
I’m working on that.

It was all so exotic.  I was entranced by the other people in the store.  The way they dressed, the way they spoke, the way they smelled, like a collection of secret ingredients from some dusty out of the way apocathary.  They moved with graceful slow movements filled with purpose.
I felt like I was in Diagon Alley.

That afternoon, my husband and I did a little exploring.  We found a steep cliff to climb high above the Pacific.  We sat facing the big sky and big water.  Seeing as I role about as well as I whistle, I packed a small pipe full of Shaman weed.  My husband fired up our small cooker, and made us some yummy hot chocolate.  

We smoked and sipped and stared outward.

At first, I felt a little dreamy, then I noticed a kind of glow throughout everything.  Not an obvious glow, the gentle brightness took a while to seep into my awareness.  When it finally did it was more of an “Oh would you look at that,”  than a “Wow man, blow my mind!” Kind of thing.
It was lovely.  Not unlike the gentle state of mind immediately after a strenuous yoga work out.
It felt very natural to me.

After a while, we went for a wander up the beach, McKenzie I believe,  
and found a place of unusual beauty and activity.

Rivulets of water left behind by the tide, rushed  backwards towards the sea leaving intricate patterns and colors in the sand. The water droplets themselves seemed eager to rush and join other droplets, gaining momentum akin to courage as they merged.
The rivulets widened and joined just outside the forest, and a magical scene suddenly came into view.

The tree’s were shaking and cracking as raven’s gleaming from their baths below, sat grouped in the conifer crowns.  They were calling to each other, beating their feathers and beaks against wood and foliage.

We had stumbled into a Raven day spa!

We backtracked into the forest for fear of disturbing the birds, but they never even seemed to notice us as we crouched between gnarled old growth trees and rough cut stone steps.  I wondered how many other awestruck human beings have used this path and sat on these steps, to watch such a spectacle.

A large raven circled overhead with a nasty shout, and then another.
The ravens rose out of the tree’s on cue, and circled over head.
The ravens dipping and diving in the sandy bath, took flight to land in the just vacated ‘beating and brushing branches’.

Another swarm of ravens landed in the bathing streams.

In turns of about 15 minutes each, the captain continued to call for change with the same two shouts, a well practiced ritual it seemed, there was no room for bickering or fooling around.  He seemed quite the schedule keeper.

Discovering wild birds delighting in a natural world spa was quite fantastical as you can imagine, but the thing that stood out in my mind, and has to this day was something even more unexpected than that.

Scattered singly through the raven ground crew were the large, speckled babies of gulls.
The ravens basically bathed with them, around them, and seemed to treat them with benign neglect.  A Raven day care center for baby seagulls?  Isn’t this also counter intuitive?  I mean, caring for the babies of a major competitor on the food chain?  Lions would kill for less.

I could count less than five babies among them.  I couldn’t count the number of Ravens.  There were dozens in the trees, dozens on the ground and dozens more circling.  I felt there were even more than I could see waiting off in the distance for their turn at the spin cycle.

The babies were never molested, or squawked at, they were simply accepted as easily as my husband and I seemed to be.

It was like we all had a special agreement here, by the edge of forest and water.  This place was beyond territory or tribal law.  This place belonged to us all, and we were all welcomed, equally.