Lots and lots of ravens.
Usually there are a couple sitting on rooftops, crowing and cackling with their very loud voices.
But I heard a lot of todo and saw a couple of low-level swoops this morning so I went to the window to check on them.
What I saw was a veritable cloister of ravens.
A quick count revealed at least nine of them in my front yard and across the street.
They were all on the ground, strutting around and talking raven talk.
A check with the Almighty Google leads me to believe most, if not all, were young ones who hadn't picked out a mate as yet.
As the Google noted they were picking up sticks and twigs and leaves and then discarding them, apparently to determine which were useful.
I eased the front door open to get a better look but I haven't greased the hinges yet and the sound scared them all off.
A short time later, I spotted a trio sitting for a long time on a neighbor's wall, cackling along in their chuck-a-whuck-a-cack-a way of communicating, no doubt comparing notes on their morning's adventure.
I know some people will say these are crows.
They're not.
They're ravens.
And, yes, referring back to the title of this post, I know the word in the Poe poem is "Nevermore."
