The ravens calls I heard in the distance, early this morning, were nearly drowned out by the robins' songs.
I left the house at 7.30 a.m., to an incipient dawn, with the light in the East hidden behind thick, dark clouds. It was cold, the temperature was just below freezing.
There were no ravens when I walked to the ravens field, using a route which Madame used to love walking and sniffing in the spring and summer. So I suddenly appeared in the ravens field from yet another direction - but one raven, sitting in one of the maples at the tennis court fence, made a soft quorking sound - he had seen me.
At first I went to the wall, to the bench - and he did come to the ground, following me - but keeping a good five yards away. His companion was in the enclosure, but came when I started to throw scraps. They were my young pair, and they were much more shy and diffident than the last time I saw them, with Madame still at my side.
I went to the enclosure and threw more scraps into it - both ravens again keeping well on the opposite side to where I was standing.
I left by walking into the spinney, the way Madame loved to walk, and came out on the side of the big field where she always came out. One raven had flown to sit on one of the small wild cherry trees at the spinney, as if checking that I was leaving the 'no more food' way. Sorry about that, ravens!
They did fly to the ground, at the top of the big field, when they saw me there, and got some more scraps. Still, they kept well away, and then went off before I had finished. The quarry pair did not turn up today. There were no dogs around at that time, not close nor in the distance, so I don't know what happened.
I went home, with just the amount of scraps left which would have gone into Madame, as reward for her good behaviour.
I miss her more than I can say.
