Big deal right, two birds in a tree? Not any two birds. Check out the size of that Raven. Sure, he's smaller than the adult bald eagle, but not
that much smaller. And if he were perched with his chest forward and his plumage fluffed like ol' baldy the size difference would be even less noticeable.
Some of the biggest Ravens in the world call Alaska home. They can weigh up to three and a half pounds, which is pretty damn big for a bird. And a Raven is probably the only bird up here who has the chutzpah to share a branch with a bald eagle. (Look at ol' baldy giving him the disapproving eye, while Raven is evidently not concerned in the least). In fact, the two will often cooperate at carrion, feeding right along side each other.
Ravens thrive in
winter. In the bitterest cold on Alaska's North Slope where temperatures plummet to -40 the only thing you'll hear if you happen to be outside is the caw and chortle of Raven.
Ravens are also wonderfully acrobatic when they play. Master works on the thirteenth floor in downtown Anchorage and right outside his window juvenile Ravens will soar for hours, playfully locking their talons midair and twirling toward the ground. Then they'll pull apart, glide heavenward on an updraft, and start all over again. Perhaps no one other than
Bernd Heinrich is more enamored of Ravens than Master. They're probably the smartest and most widely adapted of all the avids, and you thought they were just big crows -- ha! And yet they're scavengers. Go figure.