In his earlier book ''Ravens in Winter,'' the biologist Bernd Heinrich acknowledged this reverential buzz but put his scientific skepticism on record. Everyone who spends time in the wild north, it seems, has a raven story. Ravens steal, deceive, clown around acrobatically, mimic human speech and play pranks on dogs. Furthermore, they're famously mischievous.
Other anecdotal accounts likewise portray ravens using tools, foresight, visualization, high analytical skills. The Roman naturalist Pliny described a raven bright enough to exploit the physics of volume displacement, dropping pebbles into a narrow-neck vase until the water level came up within reach for a drink. According to Eskimo cosmogony, the god Raven made all things, creating light out of mica flakes and humans out of rock. According to Thucydides, ravens were too smart to feed on the carcasses of animals that died from plague. By actual measurement they are the brainiest of birds, and on subjective evidence they seem more sapient than most other living creatures.
The story reflects a widespread belief, spanning cultures and centuries, that ravens possess uncanny intelligence.
Norse legend tells that Odin, lord of the gods, was attended by two ravens, named Hugin (Thought) and Munin (Memory), who served him as reconnaissance agents, returning after each long, snoopy flight to perch on his shoulders and whisper into his ears.
0 kommentar(er)
