Raven
Funeral
It was the
middle of a Spring day. It was quiet in
the neighborhood, the kids not home from school yet. My dining room has a view of the cemetery
across the street. It’s the town
cemetery that was established in the 1800s, so it’s been around longer than the
houses on the road. As I walked through
the dining room to the kitchen, something caught my eye. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what I
glimpsed outside.
I went outside,
as quietly as I could, still not quite being able to grasp what I was seeing. The roadway was covered in ravens, shoulder
to shoulder, walking calmly and silently, together up the hill. There were so many ravens, they filled the
roadway from one side to the other.
As we
watched, more ravens flew down, landed towards the back of the group and joined in the march upward.
After all
the ravens were gone and the roadway was once again, a normal country road, my
mom turned to me and said “I think we just witnessed a Raven funeral.” That was what came to my mind, too.
We have never forgotten, either.
Raven in Weaverville Joss House Tree, photographer: Paula Masterman






