Raven, when faced with a human who’s been awake for four solid hours and still has not showed up in the back yard with his plate of leftovers, marches across the tin roof of her house—north to south and back again—with great energy, sounding for all the world like a middling gnome on a mission, and then comes the whap-whapping of wings as he swoops low past the window inside which she is working to alight on a fence post for close observation. And finally, he circles around to land on the ground, aimed away toward yon mountains but with one beady eye keeping close watch on that house door.
Oh person, doltish and sleepy and slow: where are thou, with my morning meal?!
