Raven in Wyoming

 

 I was on the Hog, riding back to So Cal after a cross country trip that peaked with a week at the motorcycle rally in Sturgis, South Dakota. I rolled out of Cheyenne  early in the morning for the day-long trek westward along Interstate 80. I was headed for  Evanston near the Utah state line, where I knew of a very good restaurant, and a very cheap motel. It's as long and lonely a ride as you'll find anywhere.  You don't know how big the Earth is until you've driven across Wyoming.

 

Now this was back in 1993, so I had to look up the route to see if I could find just where I had my brief encounter with Raven. I did remember a long, u-turning on ramp that climbed pretty steeply up to the highway. A search on Google maps revealed only one such place along the length of the interstate, a census-named spot call Arlington, population 25. 

 

There was a couple of gas pumps, and a C-store in a pre-fab building. They had a bench outside, and not much else. I filled the tank, and bought a pack of Marlboros, and a coke. They had those giant Slim Jim sausage things in a box right by the register. I don't know why, but I bought one. I rolled the bike away from the pumps, and sat down for a break. Just as I opened the Slim Jim the big black bird  glided down and landed on the ground before me maybe ten feet away. I knew right away that this was not Crow, but Raven. I had never seen one so close.

The bird stood there, cocking his head, looking at me sideways with first one eye, and then the other.

 

 

I said, "Hello."  The shaggy black bird took a few tentative sideways hops in my direction. I broke off a good sized piece of the sausage, and tossed it about halfway between me and the bird. Raven wanted that sausage. He took a few timid sideways hops, but quickly hopped back to a safer distance. The chunk of Slim Jim was just a little too close to me for the raven.

 I spoke softly, "C'mon. It's for you."

 Hop closer in, back away, hop closer in.... almost... but no. This went on for a few minutes. Raven wanted that sausage, but he was going to get only so close to this strange visitor, Man.

I finished my soda, saddled up, the bike, and lit the V-twin. The bike spit thunder, and the bird fluttered off. I made the U-turn and as I charged up the ramp, Raven swooped  across my path. He flew right at eye level, so close that I almost could have touched.  He had that Slim Jim in his beak, and a bright gleam in his black beady eye.