Even their voices are at once harsh and spirited. Ravens are larger than crows. They are relatively solitary and make their nests far from human beings, while crows generally move about in flocks and are attracted to human settlements by the promise of food. Both, however, are associated with death and share a reputation as birds of prophecy. They are also monogamous, making them symbols of conjugal fidelity. People probably did not distinguish sharply among ravens, crows, rooks, and related birds in the ancient world, and they all appear much the same in heraldry. The blue jay is one corvid that is not black, but among the Chinook and other Native Americans along the northwest coast of the United States and Canada it shares the family reputation as a trickster. Sometimes identified with corvids in myth is the vulture, which the Egyptians associated with Nekhbet and other goddesses.

The ambivalent character of ravens is apparent in the Bible, where, though described as “unclean,” they sometimes appear to have a special intimacy with God. After the Flood had raged for forty days, Noah sent out a raven to find land. It flew back and forth until the waters receded but did not return (Gen. 8:6-8). Later, however, ravens fed the prophet Elijah every morning and evening after he had fled from Ahab into the wilderness (1 Kings 17:4). According to the Talmud, when Abel had been slain, Adam and Eve, who had no experience with death, did not know what do. A raven slew one of its own kind, dug a hole, and performed a burial, thus demonstrating to the first man and woman how the dead ought to be treated. In gratitude, God feeds the children of the ravens, which are born white, until they grow black plumage and can be recognized by their parents. The crow even taught people how to die in a myth of the Murinbata, an aboriginal people of Australia. Crab demonstrated what she believed was the best way to die by going to a hole and casting off her wrinkled shell. Then she waited for a new one, so that she might be reborn. Crow responded that there was a quicker, more efficient way, rolled his eyes, and immediately fell over.

The Greek historian Herodotus wrote that two “black doves” flew from Thebes in Egypt; one settled in Libya while the other went on to Greece and settled in the sacred grove of Dodona, where it rustled the leaves and brought forth the prophetic voice of Zeus. Herodotus believed the birds were originally dark-skinned priestesses, but scholars have suggested that they may have been crows or ravens. Closely bound with their reputed wisdom is their reputation for longevity, and corvids can indeed live for decades. In The Birds, by the Greek comic playwright Aristophanes, crows are said to live for five times the life of a human being. In the dialogue by Plutarch entitled “On the Use of Reason by So-Called “Irrational” Animals,” the wise pig Gryllus states that crows upon losing a mate will remain faithful for the remainder of their lives, seven times that of a human being. Precisely because of this reputation for fidelity, however, the Greeks and Romans considered a single crow at a wedding to be an omen of possible death to one partner. The god Apollo took the form of a crow or hawk when he fled to Egypt to escape the serpent Typhon. The crow remained sacred to Apollo, but the relationship between the god and corvids was not without ambivalence. As Ovid tells the story in Fasti, Phoebus (Apollo) was preparing a solemn feast for Jupiter and told a raven to bring some water from a stream. The raven flew off with a golden bowl but was distracted by the sight of a fig tree. Finding the fruits unfit to eat, the raven sat beneath the tree and waited for them to ripen. He then returned with a water snake that he claimed had blocked the water, but the god saw through this lie. As punishment for lateness and for deceit, the god later decreed that the raven from that time on could not drink of any spring until figs had ripened on their trees. Aconstellation of depicting a raven, a snake, and a bowl was placed in the sky, and the voice of the raven is still harsh from thirst in the spring. The call of the raven was often said to be “cras,” Latin for “tomorrow,” and through the Renaissance the raven often symbolized the procrastinator.

The intelligence of crows and ravens has amazed people from ancient times. A fable about this, traditionally attributed to the legendary Aesop, is “The Crow and the Pitcher.” A thirsty crow came upon a pitcher of water but was unable to reach inside and drink. The bird began to pick up pebbles and drop them one by one into the pitcher until the water had risen to the top. The usual moral given this story is, “Necessity is the mother of invention.” This is one anecdote that could well be based on fairly accurate observation. The Romans viewed birds as mediators between gods and human beings, at times in homey as well as solemn ways. Pliny the Elder told of a raven that had been born on the roof of a temple in Rome that had flown down to the shop of a shoemaker. The owner, wishing to please the gods, welcomed the bird. By watching the customers, the raven soon learned to talk. Every day he would fly to the podium across from the forum and greet Emperor Tiberius by name. Then he would fly around and say hello to various men and women before returning to the shop. One day a neighbor killed the raven, perhaps thinking the bird had left some droppings on his shoes. The people of Rome were incensed and lynched the man. Then they gave the raven a splendid funeral in which Ethiopian slaves carried the bier and many people left flowers along the path.

On the European continent, where there are few vultures, corvids would always hover above a battlefield and later descend to eat the corpses. Two ravens perched on the shoulders of the Norse Odin, who was intimately associated with battles. They were named Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory), and they flew all over the world to bring news to the god. The Celtic war goddess known as the Morrígan would take the form of a raven or crow and come as a herald of death. When the hero Cúchulainn had been mortally wounded, he tied himself to a tree and stood with his sword in hand. His enemies watched from a distance but did not dare approach until a crow, the goddess Badb, perched on his shoulder. In one of many versions collected from oral traditions, the traditional British ballad “The Twa Corbies” begins:

The ravens find they must take their meal elsewhere, for this knight is guarded by his dogs, hawks, and wife. In many wars, however, it gave soldiers a sense of foreboding to see corvids following their armies and hovering over the battlefield. The giant Bran, traditionally depicted with a raven, was mortally wounded while leading an army of Britons against the Irish. At his command, his followers beheaded him and carried the head to the site of the Tower of London for burial so that it might serve as a charm to protect Britain. This is the origin of the legend that Britain will never be successfully invaded as long as ravens remain in the Tower. Such pagan legends eventually led to the demonization of crows and ravens at the end of the Middle Ages, when they were often seen as either familiars of witches or a form in which witches flew about at night.

Rooks share the reputation of the more illustrious ravens for wisdom, but they are more approachable. In Precious Bane by Mary Webb (first published in 1924), a novel about peasant life in the English countryside during the early nineteenth century, a family told the rooks when the old master of the house died so that the birds would not bring ill luck by deserting the home. The new master of the house observed the tradition cynically, remarking quietly that he was very fond of “ricky pie,” that is, pie made of rook meat (chap. 5). The birds rose and circled thoughtfully but then returned to their branch, letting the people know they intended to stay. Their hesitation, however, left a sense of foreboding, and the farm was soon struck by disaster.

Though sometimes birds of ill omen in China, crows can also be symbols of fidelity in love. A collection of Taoist lore usually entitled Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio (Liao Chai Chih I), written in the latter part of the seventeenth century, tells of a young man from Hunan named Yü Jung who had failed his examinations and was, in consequence, unable to find employment. Desperate and hungry, Yü Jung stopped at the shrine of Wu Wang, the guardian of crows, and prayed. After a while, the attendant of the temple approached and offered him a position in the Order of the Black Robes. Delighted to have found a way to earn his living, Yü Jung accepted. The attendant gave him a black garment. Putting it on, he was transformed into a crow. Soon he married a young crow named Chu Ch’ing, who taught him corvid ways. Unfortunately, he proved too impetuous, and a mariner shot him. The other crows churned up the waters and made the mariner’s boat capsize, but Yü Jung suddenly found himself once again in human form, lying near death on the temple floor. At first he thought the whole adventure had been a dream, but he could not forget the joys he had known as a crow. Eventually he recovered, passed his exams, and became prosperous, but Yü Jung continued to visit the temple of Wu Wang and made offerings to the crows. Finally, when he sacrificed a sheep, Chu Ch’ing came to him and returned his black robe, and Yü Jung again took on a corvid form.

In the story “Herd Boy and the Weaving Maiden,” popular in many versions throughout East Asia, corvids come to the aid of lovers. The daughter of the king of Heaven, who would weave the silk of clouds, married a humble herdsman, and the two spent so much time together that they neglected their duties. The father finally placed the Weaving Maiden in the western sky and the herd boy in the eastern sky, where they were separated by a river of the Milky Way. One day every year the crows and magpies gather and form a bridge across the sky so that the lovers may be briefly reunited. The lore of corvids among Native Americans is perhaps even more varied than that in Europe or Asia. The major themes, prophesy and death, are much the same, though the tales of the Indians are often richer in humor. Among the Haida Indians and related tribes along the American Northwest coast, the raven is at once a sage and trickster. They tell a story about how once there was no light in the world, and everything had to be done in complete darkness. All light was held in a box kept in the house of the chief of Heaven. Raven didn’t like that, and he conceived a plan to steal the light. First, he transformed himself into a cedar leaf floating in a stream where the daughter of the chief of Heaven went to drink. She gave birth to him, and for many days he played as an infant in the house of the chief. After a while, Raven began to cry and clamor for the box that held the light. The chief, who was charmed by his young grandson, let Raven hold the box. Then Raven put on his wings and carried the container through the sky. Dazzled by all the new things he saw, Raven dropped the box, and the light broke into many fragments, which became the stars, the moon, and the sun.

In the Ghost Dance religion founded by the Paiute Indian shaman Wovoka near the end of the nineteenth century, the crow was the messenger between the world of human beings and that of spirits. Indians from many tribes in the American Southwest, together with some whites, engaged in an ecstatic dance to bring about the regeneration of the earth. The celebrants wore crow feathers, painted crows upon their clothes, and sang to the crow as they danced. Sometimes they sang of Wovoka himself, flying about the world in the form of a crow and proclaiming his message.

Corvids have always figured prominently in poetry, and the most famous example is Edgar Allan Poe’s poem “The Raven” (first published in 1845). The narrator asked a raven that had flown into his chamber whether he could be reunited with his deceased beloved. The bird gazed imposingly, as befitted a messenger from the world of spirits, but revealed nothing.

In literature of the twentieth century, corvids are sometimes archaic deities that now rebel against the order of the universe. In a volume of poetry entitled Crow (1971), British poet Ted Hughes constructed a personal mythology. A figure named Crow continually does battle with cosmic powers; he may be defeated or victorious but always survives.

In “Vincent the Raven” (first published in 1941) Portuguese author Miguel Torga tells a story about the raven that accompanied Noah. Vincent becomes increasingly restless. Though not personally mistreated, he becomes angry that the animals and the earth should be punished for the crimes of humankind. At last he leaves the Ark unbidden, perches on the peak of Mount Ararat, and calls out his defiance to God. The flood continues to rise, but Vincent refuses to leave. God, realizing that should he drown Vincent, his creation would no longer be complete, finally relents and reluctantly allows the water to recede.

But ravens and crows are not at all endangered. Corvids are found nearly everywhere in the Northern Hemisphere, from remote cliffs and forests to cities. They neither fear man nor need him, and their resilience constantly inspires our respect.