The Raven Gang

We have a pair of adult ravens living on the croft, Floki and Helga, after whom the house was named.

We hear them mostly in the spring as they call to each other, and occasionally see them wheeling overhead across a windy sky, but they’re generally private birds, watching us curiously from the big Douglas Fir on the western boundary.

They’re no trouble, and fascinating birds to live alongside.

Unlike the Raven juveniles.

Before we moved here I had no idea that young ravens live together in a huge group before they pair off, mate for life and settle down to adult Raven respectability. The juveniles form what can only be described as a gang of teenagers, noisy, boisterous, and badly behaved. It’s often called a Conspiracy of Ravens.

We have a large Conspiracy that lives locally. Recent exploits have been starting at dawn – which is just after 4am in these parts – with loud squabbling, and shrieking so loud that it’s impossible to sleep through.

They’re very smart.

They’ve been working out how to get to the fat balls that are put out in a wire cage contraption for the smaller birds. Clearly it’s a breakfast treat that can’t be resisted, and an hour or so of noisy plundering takes place with a dozen or more of them fighting each other for the spoils.

On blustery days at sea we occasionally get seagulls venturing inland across the croft, and on these days we can hear turf wars sparking off between the ravens and the gulls in a cacophony of noise.

The battlefield is usually the caravan roof, where shrieking, scrabbling and cawing take place until supremacy is established.

And all before 5am..

The joys of living hand in glove with wildlife!