Disturbing Raven’s Meal

Gray sky, gray light, gray ice, gray dog breaking the monochrome monopoly with her bright red jacket. I’m carrying a fishing rod and hope to try for trout or maybe one of the young king salmon Fish and Game released into the moraine pocket lakes.

I’d be meaning to try the lakes since mid-summer but left it too late. Today translucent ice covers the lakes. Water moving into the lake from the inlet stream and that outbound over the beaver dams keeps two small lake sections ice free that I fish without success.

This morning’s low clouds block views of the glacier and its mountain companions until Thunder Mountain manages to break out of the grey, showing off its new snow white coat. Turning into the Troll Woods we immerse ourselves in its world of glowing yellow-green moss. The stuff wraps every tree and branch, covers upright sticks as if it’s cotton candy, blankets the ground to the depth of five inches. Aki bounces over the mossy forest floor, ears flapping, after a scent only she can smell.

Near forest edge we hear a raven fly overhead, each wing beat producing a drumming sound. I see the big black bird often after that until we come upon a grizzly scene. A headless male mallard duck lays on its back, chest feathers scattered behind it along a faint forest trail. The messy eaters who produced this still life sulk above us in a tree. What, I wonder, would Raven do if I carried off his half eaten treasure? Best not tempt fate or the birds. 

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