You notice me before you hear me.
A dark shape on a branch. A stillness that feels deliberate.
I am the Raven - and I have been watching longer than you think.
People often mistake me for mystery or myth, but my life is deeply rooted in the real world. I live where forests meet fields, where coastlines break open, where mountains thin into sky. I am not drawn to perfection - I am drawn to patterns.
I remember places. Not just where food was found, but how the light fell when it was. I remember faces too - human ones included. Once I’ve noticed you, I don’t easily forget.
Memory is how I move through the world.
I am a problem-solver, a planner, a watcher. I learn by observing, by testing, by remembering what worked before. When something changes, I notice. When something returns, I recognise it.
My kind has been seen using tools, solving puzzles, working together in quiet cooperation. We form bonds, not just with partners, but with family and allies. We communicate constantly - through sound, movement, and attention.
And yes, I remember.
If you have ever felt watched by a Raven, you probably were. Not with judgment - with curiosity.
I don’t rush. I wait until the moment makes sense.
This is why I thrive in shared spaces. I know when to approach and when to keep my distance. I do not claim what I need - I take it carefully, and I leave room behind me.
People often say I am intelligent. I think I am simply attentive.
If you see me often, it may be because you move through the world in a similar way - noticing patterns, sensing what lies beneath the surface, trusting quiet understanding over quick answers.
I am not here to guide you. Only to keep you company, while you see for yourself.
If you’d like to spend a little more time with me, you already know where to look.
