Bill and croak

The Roberts Lake ravens snacked on my oatcakes, watched me for a while, then went back to their important conversation. Raven # 1 left his perch among the branches to sit beside his mate.

Raven # 2, the female, on the left.

And they chatted. "Croak, croak," said he. "Ding dong," said she.

I hadn't heard that song from a raven before. I searched for it on the web, and found one, two musical notes, the second one higher, repeated after an interval, in a recording made in Iceland, here. The recorder thinks the singer is the female: another site mentions the same bell-like song, naming the singer as the female, too.

Then they got serious:

A raven kiss.

This was repeated several times, then the male assumed a different pose:

Rubber-neck smooch

"Did I hear a camera click?"

And they spread their wings and headed out across the lake.

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Los cuervos grandes del lago Roberts se comieron algunas de mis galletas de avena, se quedaron mirándome un rato, y luego regresaron a sus propios asuntos, tan importantes. El primero, el macho, dejó su sitio entre las ramas para sentarse con su pareja.

En estas fotos, la hembra es la del lado izquierdo.

Y platicaron: "Krraak, krraak," dijo el macho; "Din, don" contestó ella.

Yo no había escuchado antes este canto. Lo busqué en el internet, y encontré uno captado en Islandia, muy parecido: dos notas, la segunda más alta, el canto repetido después de una pausa. Se puede escuchar, aquí. El autor cree que la cantante es la hembra; en otro sitio se refiere al mismo estilo de cantar, otra vez afirmando que la hembra es la que emite este sonido de campanas.

Y luego se pusieron amorosos. Segunda foto: un beso de cuervos.

Esto lo repitieron varias veces hasta que el macho asumió otra postura: tercera foto, el macho con el cuello torcido.

Cuarta foto: "Parece que oí el click de una cámara." Y los dos estiraron las alas y se fueron al otro lado del lago.

Quoth the raven

I stopped at the rest area overlooking Roberts Lake to drink my coffee, and a pair of ravens joined me. (Not for coffee, but I shared my oatcakes with them.)

Raven # 1, watching me from a tree. In the background, the hills on the far side of the lake.

Raven # 2. Watching me, but not worried.

Raven # 1 again, coming out into the open.

It was good of them to pose so nicely; they're demonstrating the difference between them and their smaller cousins, the crows.

Ravens (Corvus corax) are bigger, about 60 cm. long, versus the 40 cm. for the crows (Corvus caurinus).

Ravens have a heavier bill.

Ravens wear a feather ruffle at the throat. Crows are sleek.

Crows travel in flocks. Adult ravens mate for life and travel with their mate.

And crows caw. Their voice is harsh, but thin-sounding, and with little variation: "Caw, caw, caaw!". The raven's voice is deeper and louder, and she has a wide repertoire of croaks and laughs and groans. In this pair, Raven # 2 came up with a sound I would not have expected: a two-tone call, almost musical, repeated several times while he (or she?) chatted with his mate.

More about this pair tomorrow.

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Me detuve en el area de descanso al lado del lago Roberts, para tomar mi café, y una pareja de cuervos grandes (Corvus corax) llegaron para acompañarme. (No tomaron café, pero compartí mis galletas de avena con ellos.)

Fotos: Cuervo # 1, luego el segundo, y otra vez el primero.

Era muy amable de su parte posar tan tranquilamente; me permiten anotar la diferencia entre éstos y el cuervo del noroeste, Corvus caurinus.

El cuervo grande es más grande, midiendo aproximadamente 60 cm de largo, mientras su primo el cuervo del noroeste mide unos 40 cm.

El pico del cuervo grande es más robusto.

Los cuervos grandes llevan un collar de plumas a la garganta. Los cuervos chicos son lisos.

Los cuervos del noroeste se reunen en bandadas. Los cuervos corax se aparean por vida y viajan de dos en dos con su pareja.

Y los cuervos del noroeste tienen un graznido áspero pero ligero y no varía mucho. "¡krra, krra, krraaa!" La voz del cuervo grande es más ronco, más fuerte. Y tiene una gran variedad de sonidos y llamadas; croan, carraspean, se rien, gruñen, gritan. Y en esta pareja, el cuervo segundo salió con un canto que no hubiera esperado: dos notas seguidas, casi musicales, repetidas varias veces, hablando con su pareja.

Under the autumn maples

And fall is upon us. Under the trees at Bear Creek Nature Park (on the Oyster River) it rained steadily. A warm, dry, orange rain; maple leaves weaving a cozy blanket for the earth beneath.

The woods were glorious, if the ravens were not:

One, or maybe two ravens. Easier to hear than to see.

Down below, we walked in semi-dusk; above on oddly twisted trunks, the leaves blazed in the sunlight.

In spots, the sun filtered through to the ground. Here, a few dead branches, woodpecker-drilled bark, moss, lichen, trailing blackberry, and the maple leaves.

Maple tree out in the open.

And underneath that maple leaf blanket, a miniature flower:

Unidentified. White, bell-like flowers with pale lilac veins.

Then a raven said, "Wow!"

I was running errands; groceries, hardware, and a last, quick stop at the beach to collect driftwood for a cat tower. I had loaded the car and was just about to leave.

But then, a raven said, "Wow!" It was a clear "Wow", but louder and hoarser than most humans can manage. I grabbed the pocket camera and went to see what was going on.

Down on the beach, a half-dozen ravens were visiting, parents with their youngsters. Hungry youngsters, according to the older of the two.

"Mommy, I'm starving!"

The adults weren't paying attention to him. As he called and called and called, they kept moving farther down the beach, talking among themselves occasionally. He would follow and keep on complaining. They moved on.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Another chick, still downy about the head, was quieter, but wasn't getting fed either.

The other juvenile was identical to his elders, but slightly smaller. This one was the smallest of the bunch, with a soft hairdo, and wearing newer shoes.

I never thought I would say this about a raven, but isn't he cute?

Adult, giving me the evil eye. Time to make myself scarce.

None of the ravens repeated the "Wow!" nor any other human word. They had plenty to say, however, in grunts and croaks and gratings and gargles, along with the screechy cries of the begging teen.

Miracle Beach. Miraculous beast, too.

We've  been scrambling around rocky beaches; round rocks, barnacled rocks, big, angular rocks, slippery seaweed-coated rocks, and just plain weird rocks (more about them later). Today we decided on a sandy beach. Flat and smooth and easy to walk on,  a treat for sore backs and bruised legs.

We drove down to Miracle Beach Provincial Park.

A viewing platform and fish weir located near the BC Parks office at the entrance to the park provides an interesting opportunity to view the Black Creek, ... Miracle Beach is also a good place for bird watching, and from the beach visitors have excellent views out over the Strait of Georgia.

We crossed the bridge over Black Creek, and saw a trail entrance, so we had to stop and investigate. The trail passes the fish weir and goes down to one of the parking lots; we went only part of the way, under evergreens and mossy maples.

Miner's lettuce. Likes swampy ground, stream beds. Nice addition to salads.

False bugbane, Trautvetteria caroliniensis

High up in the trees on the far side of Black Creek, a raucous argument broke out. I thought it was an angry heron at first; the opening voice had that growly, scratchy sound of a heron's croak, but the response from another tree was more of a squawk. Other birds joined in, squalling and creaking. We peered through the branches and finally saw them; big, black birds. Ravens.

What a racket! I'd thought crows were noisy; not at all; they're soft-voiced compared to their larger cousins. The argument (or maybe it was just a quiet, happy conversation for them; maybe they were even singing) went on and on. They finally moved to trees a bit upstream and subsided into mutterings and occasional creaks.

Our photos were of black shadows behind branches, but later, we came across some of them at a picnic site:

"What? No food here? Where's the cook?"

Young deer beside the trail to the beach.

The beach is wide and sandy; fine, soft, clean sand, even far out from shore. I dug down a full hand's depth without finding even a pebble.

Miracle Beach, looking south.

Tiny live clam.

There are a few rocky spots, covered mostly with sea lettuce. And thousands upon thousands of miniature black snails.

Catching crabs.

Near the picnic area, someone had built a whole menagerie of life-size sand animals. There were fish, a huge octopus, a turtle, a small killer whale, a shark head bursting out of the sand, fully equipped with sharp broken shell teeth. And a crocodile, "floating" in sand:

Far from home.

The body stretched back a good six feet. His teeth were blue mussel shells.