When Edgar Allan Poe penned his famous poem entitled “The Raven,” he depicted the large imposing bird repeating the word “Nevermore” as a warning to its protagonist. But to hear ravens talking, it’s clear they have never taken their own advice when it comes to their many distinctive calls.

Anyone who lives in the greater North Street area of Saco can attest to the fact that a small flock, or constable, of ravens produces sounds that can be downright annoying. Also referred to as an “unkindness” or a “conspiracy,” history points to the gathering of ravens around the Tower of London and that was believed to be “guarding” the royals. Hence the word “constable,” to reflect that particular activity. Ravens are also said to be “unkind” toward other birds or mounting a “conspiracy” against them, as the large birds have been observed joining forces against predators or while hunting for food.

Here in Saco, a “conspiracy” of ravens seems to have taken up residence in the heavily wooded area that runs from beyond the turnpike to the northeast to just southwest of North Street. And considering their outspokenness, it seems there is definitely a conspiracy afoot to awaken the locals early in the morning and keep them awake most of the day.!

As with most birds in this part of the world, the breeding season starts in the early spring and has ideally culminated in the production of more little ravens by the beginning of summer. While the mature adult ravens produce a deep raspy drawn-out call, sort of like what a crow might make if it had a sore throat, the youngsters produce nothing of the sort. Their calls are high-pitched to the point of screeching, and they have lots to say as they are learning to talk.

According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, both crows and ravens use different calls and cries to communicate with each other. The basic calls are easy to differentiate: the crow makes a clear and melodious “caw,” while the raven’s call is more like a raspy “kraa.” Mature birds’ voices tend to be deeper and richer, while those of the youngsters is not as assertive and more shrill. The large birds use their repertoires of calls to communicate different messages: where food can be found, during mating rituals, and when danger looms. Cornell also reports that sometimes, young crows and ravens just talk for the sake of it, for lack of anything better to do. It’s probably something along the lines of a small child sitting off alone and talking to no one in particular … which can be quite endearing in children but not so much in young ravens when they really get going with their vocal exercises.

Seeing or hearing a crow is one thing, and not a slight one. But being privy to a raven’s activities is something else entirely. Visually, they are magnificent birds. Somewhat larger than their crow cousins, ravens are more clandestine and distant. I’ve observed them here through the trees, and the closest I’ve gotten to them was a glimpse outside my living room of two ravens foraging on the ground among last year’s leaves. Many years ago, in another place, I was awakened early one morning by one “kraa-ing” from a nearby tree. But the minute I looked outside, it flew off. That’s a raven for you.

Here on Saco’s outskirts, things have finally quieted down, for another year anyway. The young ravens have matured enough so that their vocal permutations have caught up with their growth. That is a fortunate thing for those of us who are neighbors to their forest homes and who have no choice but to learn to live in some sort of harmony with them. Until next year, I’ll continue to have the good fortune to see them glide noiselessly over this place, frolic in the air with crows or other birds, or hear their throaty late evening conversations from the deep woods until they hunker down for the night. As raucous as it gets in the spring, life here would be decidedly less interesting were it not for the ravens.

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