Make Prayers to the Raven
Fish and Game area biologist Rick Sinnott holds raven No. 73, which had been shot with a pellet gun and found by a pizza delivery driver.
In death, raven teaches urbanites about his life
Raven No. 73 was known to cruise the Alaska Zoo and local lakes for grub
By DOUG O'HARRAAnchorage Daily News
Published: November 19, 2005 Last Modified: November 19, 2005 at 12:59 AM
A pizza man on a delivery last week rescued a wounded raven he spotted scrabbling along the road in South Anchorage. When his shift ended, he rushed the bleeding bird to Pet Emergency Treatment in Midtown, but it was too late.
X-rays revealed two pellets in the body, bones shattered in the right wing.
It had to be killed.
Lots of injured wild birds die in Anchorage, of course, but this was Raven No. 73, a crafty old scavenger that worked 76th Avenue neighborhoods, stole bread from East Anchorage ducks and snuck tidbits at the Alaska Zoo.
The bird was part of a study by state biologist Rick Sinnott into the habits of Anchorage's ravens. It was tagged so it could be identified from a distance and had been seen 10 times over the past nine years all over town.
As many as 1,000 ravens converge on Anchorage each winter, probably more than any other U.S. city. They're smart birds, capable of using complex calls to direct each other to tasty eats. They often mate for life. The cleverest, most aggressive ravens are called "dominant" and can be identified because hormonal changes turn the lining in their mouths black. The younger and subordinate birds -- the timid bachelors -- hang in larger mobs and back each other up.
Sinnott's study showed, among other things, that Anchorage ravens feast by day in the city's commercial strips and shopping lots ---- trash-bin paradises of chicken bones and french fries.
As the sun sets, most birds scatter to prime roosting areas in the forests and mountains. When light comes, they reverse their commute, arriving back in town to feed about the same time most people start work.
Raven No. 73 was first caught by Sinnott only a few hundred yards from where it was found dying. Over the years, it had spent lots of time checking out garbage bins and tidbits in 76th Avenue neighborhoods. But it also roamed the city.
In 1999, it was seen begging food from captive animals at the Alaska Zoo on the Anchorage Hillside and bird rehabilitation pens at Camp Carroll on Fort Richardson. Other sightings placed it at Cheney Lake and Baxter Bog. A hiker once spied the bird in the Chugach Mountains above the North Fork of Campbell Creek, far from any trash.
The last sighting came in March, when the raven was seen snatching bread from ducks at a pond near College Gate Elementary school in East Anchorage.
Though he never found No. 73's nest, Sinnott speculated that the bird spent its nights in the mountains, traveling back and forth to feeding turf in South Anchorage, visiting East Anchorage on the trip.
"He got around," Sinnott said.
Why would someone shoot No. 73 -- a bird revered by Native culture, protected by federal and state law, and wearing a prominent yellow tag on its right wing?
Laura Kelly, manager of Pet Emergency and a raven lover, wants answers. She's offering a $100 of her own money for the shooter's capture.
"Because the person is probably shooting more than ravens, more than that one raven," she said. "I would certainly spend $100 of my money to straighten a little kid out, or even an adult."
Pizza driver Erik Odegaard was on a run in a neighborhood off West Dimond Street and Arctic Boulevard about 11:30 p.m. on Friday the 11th when he saw the bird.
"He was hopping along, you know how birds hop, but his right wing was kind of hanging out," Odegaard said. "I figured if I don't get this stray bird, a stray dog or something else was going to get him."
The Anchorage father of two likes birds. "I figure if I come back, it'll be as a fish or a bird," he said.
After he delivered the pie, Odegaard parked, donned gloves and cornered the raven by a fence next to some condos. He thought the big yellow tag clipped to No. 73's wing had caused the injury.
"It seemed too big to be a Fish and Game tag," he said. "I thought the bird had caught on it."
Shooting a raven violates the federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act as well as state law, said Steve Oberholtzer, assistant special-agent-in-charge for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska. Someone found guilty could face a $10,000 fine and jail time.
But there are no clues. Sinnott picked up No. 73's frozen carcass Thursday from Pet Emergency. Once it thaws, he plans to cut the bird open, pull out the pellets and see if he can learn anything about the weapon used. He figures a kid might have shot the bird or maybe someone who saw it tearing open garbage bags.
"As powerful as the spirit of the raven is, it seems like the guy who shot him was taking a powerful chance," Sinnott said. "Who knows what kind of luck he's going to have."
In death, raven teaches urbanites about his life
Raven No. 73 was known to cruise the Alaska Zoo and local lakes for grub
By DOUG O'HARRAAnchorage Daily News
Published: November 19, 2005 Last Modified: November 19, 2005 at 12:59 AM
A pizza man on a delivery last week rescued a wounded raven he spotted scrabbling along the road in South Anchorage. When his shift ended, he rushed the bleeding bird to Pet Emergency Treatment in Midtown, but it was too late.
X-rays revealed two pellets in the body, bones shattered in the right wing.
It had to be killed.
Lots of injured wild birds die in Anchorage, of course, but this was Raven No. 73, a crafty old scavenger that worked 76th Avenue neighborhoods, stole bread from East Anchorage ducks and snuck tidbits at the Alaska Zoo.
The bird was part of a study by state biologist Rick Sinnott into the habits of Anchorage's ravens. It was tagged so it could be identified from a distance and had been seen 10 times over the past nine years all over town.
As many as 1,000 ravens converge on Anchorage each winter, probably more than any other U.S. city. They're smart birds, capable of using complex calls to direct each other to tasty eats. They often mate for life. The cleverest, most aggressive ravens are called "dominant" and can be identified because hormonal changes turn the lining in their mouths black. The younger and subordinate birds -- the timid bachelors -- hang in larger mobs and back each other up.
Sinnott's study showed, among other things, that Anchorage ravens feast by day in the city's commercial strips and shopping lots ---- trash-bin paradises of chicken bones and french fries.
As the sun sets, most birds scatter to prime roosting areas in the forests and mountains. When light comes, they reverse their commute, arriving back in town to feed about the same time most people start work.
Raven No. 73 was first caught by Sinnott only a few hundred yards from where it was found dying. Over the years, it had spent lots of time checking out garbage bins and tidbits in 76th Avenue neighborhoods. But it also roamed the city.
In 1999, it was seen begging food from captive animals at the Alaska Zoo on the Anchorage Hillside and bird rehabilitation pens at Camp Carroll on Fort Richardson. Other sightings placed it at Cheney Lake and Baxter Bog. A hiker once spied the bird in the Chugach Mountains above the North Fork of Campbell Creek, far from any trash.
The last sighting came in March, when the raven was seen snatching bread from ducks at a pond near College Gate Elementary school in East Anchorage.
Though he never found No. 73's nest, Sinnott speculated that the bird spent its nights in the mountains, traveling back and forth to feeding turf in South Anchorage, visiting East Anchorage on the trip.
"He got around," Sinnott said.
Why would someone shoot No. 73 -- a bird revered by Native culture, protected by federal and state law, and wearing a prominent yellow tag on its right wing?
Laura Kelly, manager of Pet Emergency and a raven lover, wants answers. She's offering a $100 of her own money for the shooter's capture.
"Because the person is probably shooting more than ravens, more than that one raven," she said. "I would certainly spend $100 of my money to straighten a little kid out, or even an adult."
Pizza driver Erik Odegaard was on a run in a neighborhood off West Dimond Street and Arctic Boulevard about 11:30 p.m. on Friday the 11th when he saw the bird.
"He was hopping along, you know how birds hop, but his right wing was kind of hanging out," Odegaard said. "I figured if I don't get this stray bird, a stray dog or something else was going to get him."
The Anchorage father of two likes birds. "I figure if I come back, it'll be as a fish or a bird," he said.
After he delivered the pie, Odegaard parked, donned gloves and cornered the raven by a fence next to some condos. He thought the big yellow tag clipped to No. 73's wing had caused the injury.
"It seemed too big to be a Fish and Game tag," he said. "I thought the bird had caught on it."
Shooting a raven violates the federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act as well as state law, said Steve Oberholtzer, assistant special-agent-in-charge for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska. Someone found guilty could face a $10,000 fine and jail time.
But there are no clues. Sinnott picked up No. 73's frozen carcass Thursday from Pet Emergency. Once it thaws, he plans to cut the bird open, pull out the pellets and see if he can learn anything about the weapon used. He figures a kid might have shot the bird or maybe someone who saw it tearing open garbage bags.
"As powerful as the spirit of the raven is, it seems like the guy who shot him was taking a powerful chance," Sinnott said. "Who knows what kind of luck he's going to have."
You will be missed, #73.
posted by arcticnurse at 11:55
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