What Do You Call A Flock Of Ravens?

It is a warm autumn day in the land with the willows, where the small family has made their home. Curiosity pulls the pink girl from her den, out into the bright sunlight and down toward where the largest pond in the land lays. Water has spoken to her since she first left her den but, today, something else draws Coho attention as she meanders through the willows. Ravens caw at her as she passes by, drawing her bright, inquisitive eyes up to the weeping branches where they rest, posturing and screaming their outrage at her for intruding.

Confusion tugs at her mind, slowing her steps as she tries to figure out the reason for these birds being so upset. Above the canopy, a swirling vortex catches her attention and she comes to a stop as she watches, realization slowly dawning on that it is actually alive. Dark feathers flash in the sunlight as unnumbered ravens circle and cry, something pull them to that one, specific area. Random members leave this strange formation to dive toward to the ground, disappearing behind the cover of several large willows and out of the girl’s sight.

Slowly, hesitantly, she moves toward them, wishing to the know the secret that has gathered so many of the same bird in one area. Pushing through the low hanging branches, Coho spies the corpses of a couple dead coyotes and, with morbid fascination, she stills and watches as these dark birds tear into them. Blood paints their beaks as they pluck eyes from sockets and feast on the soft innards of the exposed abdominal cavities, loops of intestine now laying splayed out on the once green grass.

Several of carrion hunters look toward her, screaming in their bird voices, the anger of being spied on. Yet Coho does not retreat, watching silently as they work to pick the bodies clean. It crazy, strange, and wonderfully different from anything she has ever seen before and the girl sudden wants to know more. What kind of birds are these? Why do they attack the already obviously dead creatures? All this and more swirl in her young mind as she watches the ravens continue to feast on the dead.



"Coho Klein"