The Raven... no quoths

Every year Grand Rapids, Michigan hosts art prize, a huge art scavenger hunt. Pieces are strewn about the city—this year there are more than 1500 pieces in over 130 different venues. If someone were to wake up at 6 am on the first day of art prize and race through the streets from venue to venue for the entire three-week event, they might just get to see all the artwork (this leaves no time for consideration, of course…just a quick “howdy-doo” to the wooden horses galloping up the Grand River).

            But then, as you’re sprinting past all the artwork, it just so happens that a piece may grab you, take you by the arm (or eyeball, more like) and force you to turn and stare.

            I experience this every time I walk past the gigantic raven…well, technically it’s a crow, but it’s a large, black bird, and most definitely part of the corvid family, so, for my purposes, it’s a raven.  This bird looms 10’ tall, feathers formed from metal and old tires, eyes black, but tinged with the streetlight’s glint. 

            If you’d like a gander, you can easily find this raven directly between the huge brass phoenix and Gerald R. Ford’s massive golden head. Although of great size, the corvid seems to hide in the shadows of these flashy adulators, its black dullness making the grandiose metal shine even brighter.

            I have a great fascination with ravens. In fact, while in college I wrote a paper comparing a wonderful friend of mine to a raven. This may not seem like a compliment, but let me explain. Ravens have awful reputations—the heralds of bad news, gloomy, dark, cawing in dead cornfields, wandering through the bones of an elephant graveyard (side note: elephant’s don’t actually have graveyards per say but that’s another story for another day). People don’t generally find a raven to be a likeable creature, but in reality, ravens are magnificent. 
A list of reasons to follow: 

A. They are manogomous and mate for life—which always seems to be the excuse for why humans should like some part of the animal kingdom, so I’ll continue…

            B.Ravens are fairly territorial and may sometimes get into fights. No worries. That’s not the fascinating part. The fascinating part occurs post-fight when the loser returns to his or her partner, instead of reprimanding or making fun of the poor fellow, the partner will “twine” bills. They comfort each other.

      C.    They’re extremely social and love to play. On windy days you can watch as they perform incredible synchronized air shows and snowy weather gives them a chance to slide down snow-covered hills like children out to play. Uhhhmmmm… No weather complaints for the raven…nope, you don’t see the corvids flying to Florida.

      D.    Corvids are considered the largest of the passeri, or songbirds. Most describe the raven call as more of a squawk or a caw and, although a bit pitchy, those really are songs you hear coming from their beaks! Maybe they tend to sing a bit loud for their talents but at least they're quite unashamed.

      E.     I’ve already touched on this, but ravens are extremely adaptable. They can live in awful conditions—conditions from which many-a-bird would fly away.

So now, keep going. Just a little further, past the Gnome’s Forest, past the Dreaming Carousel, across the road and yes…there! Right past that gigantic golden head! There’s the raven—the subject of Poe’s fear and the subject of my fancy. If you have the time during your three-week sprint, stop and ponder it a little…maybe imagine rolling it down a snowy hill. This usually-ominous bird may just make you smile.