“The Birds”, “The Elk”, “The Caribou” and other tales by Hitchcock.

“The Birds”, “The Elk”, “The Caribou” and other tales by Hitchcock.

November 10, 2005, 7:54 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’ve been doing a bit of travelling with work lately, which is great, because I love it, but is also one of the reasons "Michael’s Meanderings" hasn’t been updated for a while.  I was in Watson Lake last week and Beaver Creek (Canada’s most westerly community) this week.

I really liked Beaver Creek; It’s a pretty little community that reminds me a lot of Fort Liard.  I do miss that place.

On my travels, I was lucky enough to see a lot of wildlife, and even luckier not to hit any of it, except for a poor little bird that chose to "go towards the headlight".

The drive out to Watson Lake was nice.  We started early, before the sun came up.  About an hour away from our destination, we saw a herd of caribou on the side of the road.  It was near the area where I saw a wolf a few weeks before.

The drive out to Beaver Creek was even better.  Just past the Takhini River bridge, we came upon a huge herd of elk.  They were beautiful (and, I’m sure, quite tasty!) The scenery, even though it was cloudy and I was driving through snow at times, was gorgeous.  My colleagues and travelling companions were great company.

It was -27^oC in Beaver Creek, which was much colder than the -12^oC they had in Whitehorse, but I didn’t mind too much; I was dressed for it.

After we checked into the motel, I stepped outside to wait for the crew for out meeting.  I had a strudel in my hand and was greatly looking forward to eating it.

I lifted the strudel to my mouth and gasped.  A murder of ravens (could there be something to that?) descended around me.  There were possibly thirty, large, black ravens, with fluffed feathers and sharp beaks much larger than I remember them being.  I was surrounded by them.  When I looked to the left, the gang on the right began hopping closer.  When I looked to the right, the gang on the left began hopping closer.

"This is neat!" I thought. Then, Hitchcock’s "The Birds" suddenly popped into my head and I thought, "This is kinda scary!"

Every once-in-a-while a new raven would fly out of nowhere and take his position.  They pecked at the packed snow on the ground, eating the occassional snow chunk.  "If they’re willing to eat parking lot snow, what else are they willing to eat?" I wondered.

I took a step back, and they followed.  I took a step forward and they held their ground.  "I have got to show this to somone else," I reasoned, and turned towards the motel, walking briskly.  The ravens followed briskly.

They came close, but fortunately didn’t follow me into the motel room.  My colleague came out to watch, and they stayed close, but they didn’t behave quite the same.

Ravens are smart.  Really smart.  You don’t have to watch them for very long to realise that. "A close call," I reasoned, "Good thing I went for back-up."  I didn’t want my obituary to read "Pecked to death by a murder of ravens" or even worse, "In the end, he was for the birds."

You’ve gotta love animals, except when they want to eat you, of course.  Right now, as I sit on the couch and type, I’ve got a furry cat snuggled up on my arms (no, not in my arms – on my arms).  It’s not the easiest way to type, but he looks so comfortable that I don’t want want to disturb him.  I hope he doesn’t want to eat me some day.  Great obituary for that one, though. "He was the purrfect snack for his cat."

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