The only signs of the rare white crow that entertained Anchorage last winter are photos posted on a Facebook page, taken before it disappeared.
It’s a photo parade of the white crow’s greatest hits that captured its trickster nature (images of the bird munching on toast and chips) or gazing capriciously from the top of a fence.
Thousands and thousands of photographs were taken and yet the bird remains a mystery.
Now, there is a persistent lament: “Oh, White Raven, White Raven. Why are you sweet crow?
And although a crow of any other color would be just as naughty, somehow its white feathers and light blue eyes stole the hearts of Spenard, the Anchorage neighborhood where this love story began.
The white crow arrived in October last year and quickly achieved celebrity status. The paparazzi soon documented his every move. The bird even seemed to play with the cameras and talked quite a bit.
But when April arrived, there was silence. The bird left town along with most of the crows that wintered in Anchorage. The departure coincided with the arrival of strident seagulls.
Wildlife biologist Rick Sinnott has studied these comings and goings. He says it’s normal for birds to change, almost as if they were changing shifts.
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it showed up again in mid-to-late October,” Sinnott said.
On the Anchorage White Raven Spottings Facebook page, there are many posts from fans hoping this will happen. There is already a countdown to anticipate the bird’s return in October. But for now, that’s based on wishful thinking, not scientific evidence.
The bird was last photographed in the city on April 20. The next day, a photo of the White Crow was posted in a backyard in Soldotna, not far from where a baby White Crow was seen last summer.
Scientists say a white raven is produced by a genetic mutation that causes loss of pigmentation. It has a one in 30,000 chance of being born.
Sinnott says given those odds, the white crow that hatched on the Kenai Peninsula is likely the same one that spent the winter in Anchorage. He says it’s normal for crows to return to their nesting grounds in the summer or go in search of a new place to raise their young.
Sinnott learned this from a radio tracking project in the 1990s. He says the crows knew him well enough to recognize his truck. Although they flew away when he approached, Sinnott managed to tag enough crows to know that they are winter commuter birds.
A day in the life of an Anchorage crow is spent in the city, near their favorite dumpsters and fast food parking lots. At night, they fly to roost in tall trees on the Anchorage Hillside or in places like Bicentennial Park.
“If you’re sitting on the east side of town a few hours before dusk in winter,” Sinnott says, “you’ll see a lot of crows flying toward the mountains, hundreds.”
Sinnott says they’ll be back in the morning.
“They come in and are hungry since night. And it’s cold, so they eat for several hours,” Sinnott said. “And then they have most of the rest of the day to play. “It’s a pretty good life.”
But when spring comes, the crows are ready to return to the wild. Sinnott says they may travel to the North Slope or Juneau in search of solitude. He says they spend many summers on the Kenai Peninsula and their behavior changes with the change in habitat.
Winter, on the other hand, is a very social time for birds, but for now, the only traces of White Raven in Spenard can be found in stores like Frozen Flamingo Market. Owner Yvette Corchaine says interest has increased since the bird disappeared.
“People come here looking for White Raven items,” Courchaine said. “And we have beautiful photographs of the White Raven, as well as jewelry, decals and license plates.
You can find other White Raven items such as commemorative coffee mugs, mouse pads, and tea towels. But Courchaine says the photos taken by Michelle Hanson are among the favorites. One of the best sellers is what she calls the yin and yang photo of the white crow, flying together with a black one.
Hanson says his sale of White Raven photographs helped his new photography business, mhPhotoCo, take off this winter. He also gave her time to observe White Raven.
“I think it’s female, just by her body language and demeanor,” Hanson said. “She just seems to be a boss and she can hold her own.”
Initially, people were worried that the other ravens would pick on White Raven because she’s different, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Some of Hanson’s photographs of the bird and a black-feathered companion sparked speculation that the two were romantically involved.
“I like to think so, because there are some tender moments in there,” Hanson said. “But based on age, I don’t think they are necessarily a loving couple. You never know.”
If the two birds have mated, it will probably be a long courtship, because crows do not mate until they are 3 or 4 years old.
“I just hope she enjoys her life and stays alive, makes more friends and enjoys the scenery of the (Kenai) Peninsula and has a good crow life,” said Hanson, who also hopes to benefit from a healthier diet of wild foods. .
That may or may not be the case. Gregory Messimer, a Kenai taxi driver, took some of the first photographs of the bird last summer. He said he was seen primarily north of Kenai, learning to fly and find food and water.
Messimer says that if you plotted all the sightings of the bird on a map, you would see a direct line to the Kenai Peninsula Borough landfill, which has plenty of food waste from restaurants and grocery stores to keep the crows fat and happy.
Messimer nicknamed the bird Wind Chime. He says he hasn’t seen it yet this summer. Last June, he saw him jumping in a clear field with his brothers.
“The nestmates would pick things up and try to eat them,” he said. “You could tell that the parents were up there, alert to the danger.”
Messimer says he watched the mother feed the white crow and the bird’s color didn’t stop her from paying close attention to her white baby. He watched her caress the bird’s throat with her beak, which seemed to put the white crow into a trance-like state.
Messimer says more ground has been moved in the lot where he saw the chicks last summer. He wonders if that made the crow family go deeper into the forest, but says that if the white crow is nearby, he’ll probably see it. As a taxi driver, he covers a lot of territory.
Messimer also doesn’t believe this is the same white crow that spent the winter in Anchorage. He says they just look different.
Either way, White Raven’s departure from Anchorage has left a hole in the hearts of many, especially Charlene Apok, an Alaska Native activist.
“We were able to realize and see something that had been predicted,” said Apok, who says there are many Alaska Native stories about how White Raven would suddenly appear as a messenger of hope and healing.
Last winter, Apok says, he saw the bird a lot from his office building on Arctic Boulevard, headquarters of the group Native Movement. She says that White Raven flew to the second-story window at her eye level, and her visits caused considerable excitement.
He said someone would shout, “White Crow, out this window.” Then the “thump, thump, thump” of footsteps would be heard.
“Everyone was running across the building to see the crow,” he said.
But while Apok misses White Raven, he also accepts the mystery of her departure. She believes the bird’s absence leaves time and space for reflection.
Aaron Towarak has a lot to reflect on. He was one of the first people to photograph the bird.
“I really couldn’t believe it. It was kind of surreal at the time,” says Towarak, who first encountered the white crow on Oct. 20 while walking through Spenard.
At first he thought it was a seagull.
“But then I looked a little closer and there was another crow with him, and then he cawed,” Towarak said, “and I thought, is that a white crow?”
Towarak knows something about crow sounds. He spent his childhood in Unalakleet learning to imitate them.
He said the sound of the bird stirred something inside him and marks an important turning point in his life.
At the time, he was living in a hotel, hoping to enter an alcohol and drug treatment program, but he relapsed and was expelled.
“It’s hard when you’re in your addiction to feel much more than want that high,” Towarak said. “But at that moment, something reawakened in me. “I felt amazed.”
He also felt the joy of sharing his photo of the bird with others, before White Raven made his presence known. It was also the first time in a long time that she shared something with someone. Addiction had isolated him from the world.
“There are a lot of uncertainties in my life at that moment, and just having that white crow anchors everything,” he said. “OK. From now on, it’s a new day.”
Towarak eventually entered a treatment program, found sobriety, got a job and was reunited with his children.
Towarak says that after that first encounter, he never went outside to try to find the bird. The beauty of the experience, he says, is that White Raven found it.
At that time, he never thought of trying the authentic crow song that he practiced during his childhood. He believes the bird heard what was in his heart, but if he returns to Anchorage this winter, he hopes they will be reunited. And whether he makes the song or not, he believes the bird will see that his heart is full of gratitude.
This story was originally published by KNBA and is republished with permission.
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