A pair of ravens (Corvus Corax) are raising their three offspring here at the lightstation. All day they careen by, shiny black acrobats, squawking and chasing each other like kids do everywhere. Right now, as I’m sitting by the window typing, a shadow catapults from the roof before me, and it’s one of the kids, and then another. They like to convene on the top of the light or perch above the canary yellow fuel tanks, which to Ivan’s chagrin, are now being whitewashed. I carried my camera around yesterday trying for a decent shot of this comedic troupe and eventually managed to get this:
Just look at this trickster.
What's he thinking? It’s easy to see why Raven would be known by the West Coast People for transforming into a hemlock seed, so he could be drunk by a beautiful girl and reborn as a small human. The world was all dark then. Raven knew the girl’s father had the sun locked away in a cedar box and he wanted that sun. Of course, Raven succeeds. But in his triumph, Eagle attacks, making him drop half the sun, which breaks and bounces into the sky to become the moon and stars. Eagle continues his pursuit until exhausted Raven finally drops the rest--and so the world lights up for the very first time.
Yesterday an eagle launched into the treetops where the kids were perching and sent them squawking. Luckily, none of them were clutching the sun. And so, last night we had the most beautiful sunset, thanks to Raven.
Day 2 at Scarlett Point
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