I have been here for close to three months and found a walk that does not seem to be traveled by too many people and their dogs. My dog wants to be Alfa wolf to every dog she meets on a trail, and although she never fights with a dog, she wants to play, it is still a relief to just be on our own. The trail drops down close by a stream into a grove of large ponderosa pines as it sweeps up again. I always see Ravens there and it must be a rookery.

This morning one Raven begins to follow me low and along the trail and is making all kinds of wonderful vocalizations. The Raven seems like it is a female as it preens and coos above me. I draw closer to the first tree and realize the Raven is focused on me and I am sure my dog as well. I sit close by the tree and move in closer and she begins to move up and down branches and closer to me as well, and becomes very animated.

When I begin to move along the path she follows me and begins to play in the branches. Some of what she is doing is leaning over to take bugs or seeds out or nuts, I cannot tell exactly what all her moves are for but it is clear she wants my company during the process. I begin to talk to her more, and even play hide and seek as she peeks behind some needles and chortles. I finally sit under one tree for nearly forty minutes as she talks and flits her wings and seems to at times go into a reverie and wants me to listen.

She flies over my dog and Lupine dog spins and leaps up towards her, this startles the bird but then she kind of likes it, and begins to really chatter to Lupine and moves way out to the edge of a branch that dips down closer to my dog and they stare at one another then brings her attention back to me. At times her sounds seems lonely or mournful during our exchange as I feel her presence in a palpable way.

When I have to leave she gives out a cry that is almost piercing in its sadness, and I begin to cry spontaneously, and wave to her as she circles higher and higher in the sky. She and I have talked and been by each other for nearly two hours. It is one of the longest encounters and most sustained dialogues I have had in nature with a bird. My heart splits open, and it is as if she is telling me her desire to relate to me as part of her larger world; as if she too has been human, she too feels I am a bird and can almost fly with her. I hated to disappoint her.

Each day the shadows thicken and the cottonwoods glow as the aspens fade. The bright yellow makes me smarter when I stand in view of the trees. I take photographs of the colorful trees, Chamisa grass, and the patterns of light and the gray haze created by the bare trees on the hillsides around me. The selection of patches of color brings a sharper focus to a piece of color here or light falling over there, as I see the wood and the bark shining. The various compositions of leaves fall in patches of color on the path or float in puddles or the small stream.

When I return a week later to my walk a flock of dark birds are flying high in the sky. I call up to them in greeting and one bird calls back, and turns and dives down to a dead tree next to me along the path. It is my friend and we talk for another fifteen or so minutes and then she must return to the sky.

There is the first snowfall less than a week after this visit and I return with a large bag of raw peanuts and leave them under the various trees I have seen the birds land in before. They begin to fly around and watch as my friend chatters to the group. I leave as they begin to fly down for the nuts and I am glad to leave them something a bit extra for the winter and wish them well in the days to come.