The Raven and the River...

Recently while driving north into Curlew, crossing the Kettle River highway, bridge I encountered a raven flying a parallel course. Slowing my vehicle to match the flight of the bird I noted it was flying about 28 mph. It was a large raven and only about fifty feet west of my truck as we approached the bridge. So close I could clearly see the bird, the fluctuations of it's feathers in flight, and noted it’s mouth moving, possibly cawing, but it is a cold winter’s morning and my windows are up, I cannot hear if it is indeed making sound.


In flight toward the river the raven stayed at the same elevation above the western field, keeping it clearly in my view and with no other traffic I matched speeds with the bird and watched it fly alongside my vehicle. We both approached and then began to cross the river together. I, within my truck and in the structure of the overhead trussed bridge, the raven in the free, clear, cold air of a winter’s morning. Side by side the raven and I crossed the river less than fifty feet apart and nearly the same elevation above the water. As we reached the northern shore I realized what strange a thing had just happened. I had recently been reading a historical account of traveling in this northwest country 200 years ago. Rivers were not so casually crossed, nevertheless at 28 miles per hour in the company of a bird, which figures so prominently in the indigenous peoples ancient tales of creation. As we cleared the bridge the raven veered course and flew right over the top of my truck less than 20 feet above me. At that time it vanished from my sight, but not from mind…