Today felt like the first day of winter. On my evening hike, up Mesa Viento, I dug my hat and gloves out of my pack for the first time since leaving Maine.
As I sat on the southern edge of the mesa, in the wind, overlooking my big backyard, a flock of about fifty ravens flew overhead, a sure sign of winter. During the nesting season, roughly from May through October, ravens live in territorial mated pairs, but in winter, dozens flock together in overnight roosts. These raucous groups are known as a conspiracy, an unkindness, or a constable of ravens.
I headed down the mesa well before sunset to avoid the herd of feral horses, which usually wander up the mesa at dusk. I wonder if they’ll keep the habit through the winter. Viento means wind and come winter, this mesa is no place to overnight.