Disquieting pals.

Time before last that I was in the Painted desert in Arizona, I made a friend.

It was freezing cold that day...it had snowed during the night, and I was glum. Had so looked forward to the day and the sky was slate, the ground white, the air bitter. There was a diner down the road, and I decided to go get some breakfast (sure to upset my stomach), drink some coffee and wait it out. Lucky me: turned into one of the most gorgeous days I've experienced. The sky lit up like a god was playing with planet-sized flashlights back there behind the clouds...to prove this, divine rays seemed to emanate from the storm front. The temperature was as bitter as ever, and would stay that way throughout, but it lended a crystalline and clear element to the day. It maintained scrims of ice on the water, and patches of snow here and there. When I returned to the hotel that night, I'd notice my hands were frost-burned.

The drive through the Painted Desert is always amazing. There's a particular entrance you want to begin with (I want to say the Southern one), as there's a rise it's important you go over one way and not the other...the one direction provides an eye-widening vista. The other, you start within the vista, and there's no moment of epiphany. But I can't remember which, damn it. Logic decrees it was the Southern entrance, as I wanted to head out on the 40 afterward via the Northern exit.

As for my friend, he joined me about halfway in. The cold had kept all but the most cussed inside. It was just me, a few darling European boys (never quite divined the accents) and an elderly couple in the park, as far as I could tell. Amazing to have the view all to myself, or close enough as to not matter. The wind was so harsh, it pulled my hands. Many of my photos from this trip are askew; there wasn't any way to keep the camera level. At one point I took note of two hook-beaked hoary ravens cuddling up on a fence. They were amazing! And huge. They let me get abnormally close for a shot - I'm sure this is because of hundreds of tourists tossing crumbs each day. I was glad for the luck to see them and drove on.

A few miles down the road, I decided it was time for a snack. The day was wearing on me; it was hard to hike about in the chill and wind. I'd purchased something awful from the entrance store, Fritos or the like....but also still had a few biscuits left over from breakfast (I'd had them wrapped thinking I might need the carbs). I opened my door to swing my feet out and let crumbs fall where they might, when a dark form fluttered down next to me. A very large raven, as big if not bigger than the other two, sat there and peered at me. Or more specifically, at my biscuit. So I tossed him a quarter slice. He seemed to appreciate this, as he followed me from stop to stop for the next few miles. As I drove, he'd fly next to my window, and when I stopped, he'd land, looking for more biscuit.






Keep in mind it was me, the raven and nothing else. Just the howling wind and cliffs. I started to get a little spooked while at the same time charmed. I talked with him, egging him on, seeing if he'd continue to follow me (we pulled the whole "drive and fly" about five times). I'd throw some more biscuit occasionally. I chatted with him, laughing and asking about Coyote (I'd been reading trickster myths), asking what Odin was up to these days...and thinking to myself that he wouldn't mind one bit if I went careening off a cliff, giving him something a bit more toothsome than a biscuit to sink his beak into. Wasn't suffering from any illusions regarding his presence. He was hungry and I had food. Or could be food. I can't say I was unhappy when we finally parted ways. There's something amazing and beautiful about having all that space to yourself, but - much like when I lived in the Adirondacks - you always have that reality check in your head, the one that notes how easy it would be to become a smear on the side of the road, a lump at the bottom of a cliff...The Girl Who Was Bitten By A Rattlesnake In The Middle Of Nowhere...etc. A healthy dose of respect for Nature is required. And I nodded to the raven as he flew off.