I’m sitting here watching the light grow in the south, and although the sun won’t show today, or indeed for another couple of months, the light is incredibly beautiful. The horizon is shaded in pinks and yellows, and a light blue which gradually deepens to an incredible indigo to the north. The hills and ocean are an amazing deep blue grey, interupted by the darker grey of Holy Cross point, and the light trail of a hunter’s snowmobile heading out toward Admiralty Inlet.
I’m watching the ravens, who seem to own the air around the House, fan out across the land, foraging while they have enough light to find a scrap of seal, or some other tasty morsel. The snow has blanketed the land where wild flowers brightened the summer tundra.
I’m grateful for the Ravens who keep me company all year, hanging out on the deck, soaring on the wind, and sometimes knocking on the hand rail, making me think there is someone at the door. I know that I’ll probably not see another bird for six months or so (although there are possibilities), but while watching the world come alive in the light I can dream of the return of the other birds. The Snow Buntings and Wheatears, the Gulls and Fulmars, and who knows what surprises the spring will bring, perhaps the wayward White-crowned Sparrows will return, or perhaps a Sabine’s Gull will finally make an appearance for me.
The light is still waning but in three weeks it will start to return. That is part of the beauty of life here, its return. The Ravens, like the brief glow in the south, are always here, are always part of the beauty of life up here, but like the sun the others will return, as regular as clockwork. And like the sun they will light up the beauty that is already all around.
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12 responses
Those Ravens are there through thick and thin. We just went through some good cold snaps, they stuck it out with us. It amazes me how they withstand the cold.
Clare–I like these thoughts on ravens and light–two of my favorite topics–and I think they go well together, especially in the dark and cold.
I did not know that Ravens stayed in the north all winter. Neat! Meanwhile, I almost never see Ravens this far south. They do drop by occasionally but mostly they stay another 100 km or so to the north.
Beautiful post, Clare. Great sense of place.
I’ve just been reading Wayne Johnston’s Navigator of New York, about 19th century arctic exploration (the quest for the North Pole). I don’t know how accurate it is, but its depiction of the difference between the explorers’ and Inuit’s ways of dealing with the dark time was striking (explorers more or less collapse)–got me thinking more about what it would be like to live in a yearly rather than daily rhythm. Something that would have been much more difficult for me to imagine but for what I read here!
Beautiful, Clare. Thank you.
How do you deal with dark time? Do you keep the same clock that anyone in the more equatorial regions keep, even though the sun ain’t gonna rise that day?
They sure are tough resourceful birds Dave. I always wonder how they find enough food in the dark to keep warm. But I guess between the dump and the dog teams there is plenty. They absolutely thrive.
Me too larry. One of my favourite things about them is how the light plays off their feathers.
Hey OW, long time no hear. It is a pity that you rarely see ravens there. They bring so much to the landscape.
I’ve not read Navigator of New York Pamela. I suppose that further north the dark could be overbearing. I just find the change in the light so fascinating and the dark season seems to fly by. The sky is even more beautiful today.
Thanks Anita, congrats on finishing the books.
Sorry Rankin Rob, I crossed posted and missed you.
Same clock, we’re on Eastern Daylight Time right now. Like most of the world the bulk of the “normal” day is a 9-5 world. Inuit however never kept that kind of world and in some ways still don’t. It was/is mostly dark or light up here, so it didn’t really matte when you slept or when you were awake. You can find someone active up here no matter what the time of day.
Sorry I wasn’t the first to comment. In my last email, I asked about whether the ravens stayed all year. Thanks for answering with such a good post! Do they forage in moonlight? It’s bright enough here some nights.
I read your response to my comment, Clare, and then looked at a map. I keep forgetting just how much north there is. From the map I figure that if I travelled from my place to yours I’d still only be about two-thirds of the way to the pole.
Should say, too, since it’s not clear in my original comment: Navigator of New York is a novel (a strange and interesting one), but it borrows the real-life Arctic explorers Peary and Cook (freely and yet apparently more or less faithfully).
Thanks Carl.
I’ve never seen them forage at night. Last night was beautifully lit here with the full moon. With all the snow and subsequent reflection it is pretty light out on these nights. Light enough to drive without headlights. I looked last night and never noticed any out and about and can’t remember seeing any before in similar nights. I’ll keep looking though.
We’re about 17 degrees from the pole Pamela, but only 6 and 2/3 degrees from the arctic circle. It is at the pole where there is the proverbial 6 months of “dark”. When the sun first rises there it takes 30 some hours from when you can first see the orb, until it is completely above the horizon
Peace y’all