Correspondence From a Bird

A letter by the bird of the month: 

Dear Audubon Southwest, 

I am honored to be selected as the October bird of the month. It seems my years of doing mid-air flips and spins to catch your attention have finally paid off. I’m not the only Common Raven that’s been executing flawless aerial acrobatics—one of my colleagues recently flew upside-down for over half a mile to show off for a group of birders. Truthfully, these antics are more to impress mates than birders, but either way, I am pleased that we, the Common Ravens, are getting the attention we deserve. 

Ravens have lived alongside humans for millennia. We are highly adaptable and opportunistic birds that take advantage of the benefits human society provides us—not the least of which is any food that you throw out! As I understand it, we are also quite popular in the art and folklore of human cultures around the world. Personally, I prefer the depictions of our species as wise, crafty songbirds rather than dark and ominous harbingers of doom. After all, we are one of the smartest species on the planet! I do not at all understand what that poet Edgar Allen Poe meant by, “…grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore…”  

Yes, it’s true that Common Ravens frequently feed on carrion, but this does not mean we are evil! We are omnivores, eating plants and meat. Our diet features a variety of food, including insects, rodents, eggs, berries, and sometimes leftover French fries from your dumpster. I have friends who have memorized the hunting patterns of grey wolves to make an easy meal of what is left behind after a kill. “Work smarter, not harder,” they always say. 

My partner and I frequently hunt and scavenge together, and sometimes I distract other birds while she steals eggs from their nest. She and I have been together for nearly eight years now. We made our home on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, where we enjoy people-watching and allopreening (grooming each other) in our nest aloft a ponderosa pine.  

Flying over the canyon, I often wonder about the fate of its delicately balanced ecosystem. Things are not the same here as they were for Common Ravens 50 years ago. Invasive plant species like tamarisk (salt cedar) have spread and choked river corridors throughout the Southwest, sucking water from streams and forcing out native plant species that birds rely on for food and shelter. Diminishing flows in the Colorado River, which alter the quality and temperature of its water, are endangering native fish species. A changing climate is drying the soil and hindering snowfall across the Colorado River Basin. Although the population of Common Ravens is stable for now, species such as my Corvid cousins, the Pinyon Jays, have not been so fortunate.  

The good news is that recent polling found nearly all Arizona voters believe it is important for federal and state officials to improve water security in the Colorado River Basin, where my home is. To improve Arizona’s overall water outlook, we must continue to invest in water projects that boost supplies and restore our watersheds using a variety of sources (including local, state, federal, philanthropic, and corporate funding). 

There are many things Common Ravens can do, but we can’t protect the Southwest from climate change and habitat loss. We need your help with that.  Join Audubon’s Western Water Action Network to receive water news and action alerts about issues affecting birds nationwide. You can help birds like me by using your voice to weigh in on water management decisions that will shape the future of western rivers and lakes, for the birds, wildlife, and people that depend on them. Thank you. 

Sincerely, 

A Common Raven 

P.S. Sometimes we Ravens can be confused with crows, another large black perching bird in the same Corvus genius. You can brush up on your identification skills with this guide from my friends at the Audubon Magazine: How to Tell a Raven from a Crow.