Animals

On my recent road trip to help my friend Tara with her move — flying out to Alaska followed by a long drive down the Alaskan Highway and then down to Iowa — one of the things I hoped I would see was some of the wildlife… even if only via the moving frame of the car window. I wasn’t sure what exactly I might see that would be different than what I might see within the boundaries of my own state, but I was hoping to see something different.

And the road did not disappoint. I saw several black bears (one with four cubs), something I have never seen while driving. I also saw a handful of mountain goats, which I used to see all the time along the road to Nye, Montana on my way to the Woodbine Trail in the Beartooth Mountains (still, perhaps, my favorite hiking trail all around), but it has been more than twenty years since I last traveled in that area. They were with some kids (baby goats), which were nearly as adorable as the black bears.

We had to navigate a small herd of bison/buffalo crossing the highway; again, with babies in tow. A few idiots were pulled over to take pictures, and apparently they had not seen the footage from Yellowstone of people getting charged and occasionally getting thrown up in the air when the bison took offense. They have rammed cars that they have taken offense to being near their calves and I promise you, the car will not win if they do that. Like sensible folks, we slowed down but kept driving through. Neither of us needed photo trophies to prove what we had seen.

We also saw a handful of reindeer/caribou, what we both thought were wild horses (no fence, in a cluster near the road), and we even saw a badger (we are pretty certain, anyways — it moved quick). In fact, the only animals that was regularly posted to watch for that we did not see were deer and moose. I have deer in my backyard (and front yard) on a regular basis, so that was not a disappointment, but I will admit that wish I had seen at least one moose on the drive.

But my near constant companion while we were still driving through the boreal forests and mountains were… ravens.

People think I’m imagining things or exaggerating, but I have often said that if there are ravens around, whether solo or conspiracy (a group of ravens is a conspiracy) — they will eventually come to visit me. I seem to attract them, which is part of my reason for assuming “Raven” as part of my pen name. Often, they’ll follow me. Even more frequently, they’ll talk to me.

The morning we embarked on our trip, I stepped outside my cabin on the Kenai Peninsula to stretch and shake off the weird sleep I encountered that night, likely caused by both the late sunset and early sunrise compared to what was normal for me (in addition to the time zone differences). I heard a strange sound off in the tall pines nearby, one that sounded both familiar and otherworldly. I strongly suspected it was a raven talking up in the trees (it had their throaty mimic sound, so I could not be certain). That was quickly cleared up for me as the raven dropped down from the trees and did a 360-degree flyby of the cabin and then back up to the top of the tree. Two other ravens flew down in tandem to repeat the flight the first had made. And then, they sat up in the heights to chat with me until I had to leave.

Ravens were our constant companions on the roads as well, often found on the shoulder slopes, watching as we passed them by.

While in the Yukon, Tara and I stopped for ice and coffee at a small First Nation (Tlingit) gas station and convenience store. I was sipping at my coffee and eating a breakfast sandwich when Tara nudged me and pointed up to the facade of the repair garage. I had not seen our guest arrive, but we had a raven determined to check the to of us out. For those not familiar with the tribe’s culture, Raven plays a prominent role for them, as the creator of the world and the bringer of light (amongst other roles). To be visited by a raven in one of their tribal villages was quite an honor for me.

Sadly, as the birch and pine gave way to crops and prairie, we saw fewer of them. Part of me hoped that one or two of them would follow me back to Minnesota and take up residence in my backyard. While we have the occasional raven visits in Minnesota, it is pretty rare compared to the route we took to get here from Alaska and I really wish I could import that part of the Northwest here. I miss my lengthy conversations with them most mornings, like those I had with ravens when I was living in Seattle.

The lack of ravens now that I am home is perhaps the most melancholic part of my adventure, but I hold the memory of their visits on the trip with fondness.

My next trip will likely have to be somewhere were I can catch up with them at length…