Early one morning after a spring freshet in 1976, I beat feet up the trail to Russian Gulch Falls, with tripod and camera in hand. The falls are dry most months of the years, but if you catch them just right they're beautiful, and now was the time.
The trail up to the falls is a short 4 mile loop. On the way up I encountered an "unkindness" of Ravens clamoring about in the forest canopy surrounding me. To this day I have yet to see a larger gathering. It was early morning, trees still dripping, and the creek leading up to the falls was cascading.
The ravens, it appeared, were in a big clamor over my presence, and they stuck with me, clamoring on for a good part of that trail. Which was kind of unnerving consider their numbers. There must have been a hundred.
Eventually they lagged behind and the quietness of the forest returned. The falls were spectacular, spray and mists filling the air and ferns waving. You'll ever see Russian Gulch falls like that any other time of the year.
I was alone in the park that day and my encounter with that "unkindness" of Ravens still sticks in my mind today. "The Birds"
Stories of Corvids. Oh, I have a few. I hear they can live for 40 to 50 years.