Viking References

Resource link describing the use, and lack thereof, of heraldry devises within Viking cultures.

https://www.cs.vassar.edu/~capriest/display.html

http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/vikheraldry.shtml

• http://members.ozemail.com.au/~chrisandpeter/shield/shield.html
• https://youtu.be/7OPxgn2-JR0 Viking Mythology audio book 

Cordial Corvids or Raving About Ravens

 Oh what a beautiful morning! The day had an unusual start, which could have turned things sour, but instead opened to a blossoming flower... and yes, unfortunately for my spouse I do talk that way in real life. So today, which was supposed to be a day off, my husband was suddenly called in to cover for a co-worker which left me with the task of taking the dog for his wake-up walk. I honestly wasn't looking forward to it because for the past few days, despite having eaten well and taken vitamin boosters, my physical energy has felt drained. This walk is something that "the guys" always do together, so I let lil' Sparky lead the way.

 In short time we found ourselves facing a vast expanse of grass -- a sea of green for an urban area -- where many years ago three Victorian homes had once stood tall. I've not been to "The Field" at that time of day before so was surprised at the number of animals picking and grazing together out in the open. My dog seemed a bit surprised too because he stopped to stare across the street at the field and then look up at me as if to say, "wow". We moved slowly down the sidewalk so as to not startle any of the ravens, chipmunks, squirrels, and groundhog.

 I don't often get to observe the ravens being so relaxed. A couple of years ago this murder of raven moved in and had such a battle with the crows that had been here that it caught the attention of local media for a time, so these ravens are usually on guard. Today though a number of them were casually enjoying the bounty of old corn cobs that someone had tossed over there after a grill-out. The one that was obviously the sentinel for the group walked with us on his side of the road for a few paces, feeling us out for possible danger. I closed my eyes, nodded, and did my best to send out the energy of appreciation. I think it's important not to just send a big ol' metaphysical blast of LOVE at creatures because the sensation can be misinterpreted; Doesn't a cat when it's hunting just LOVE a juicy birdie? You get my point, and so did the raven because it returned to stand back with the others. So much smaller than the Pacific ravens I knew many years ago when I lived on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State -- only a third of the size -- but still large gleaming black beauties!
  Sparky and I crossed the street further down so as to offer the least disturbance to those who were feeding. We do have a slight history with the squirrels -- a bad chasing habit -- so they took off in a run before our feet even hit the grass. I expected the ravens to erupt into a cloud of caws and wings, but the sentinel only gave us a haughty upward nod as if to say, "HUMPF! Do you think we're a bunch of simple CROWS?" They continued to feed and playfully toss corncobs at each other while we moved to the taller grass at the back of the field.
  Sparky did his business then began to casually chew some of the tender grass sprouts, so I decided to plop to the ground for a while. Clear from the shade of any nearby trees, the Earth felt warm and happy underneath my bottom. I soaked up the Sun from above and felt the sleepiness of waking washing away from me much better than I had from the still half consumed first cup of coffee waiting at home. Everything was so peaceful that gradually the squirrels began to creep back down from the trees to return to their claim of the corn. One of the ravens tossed a cob far into the air so that it landed away from the group, as if to keep the hyper squirrels at bay. Sparky sat down next to me in the soft mown grass, and for a while we stared off together at nothing; It was glorious!

 Eventually the dogs shaking body brought me out of what felt like a trance and I realized that not only was he panting but I was slowly becoming covered in sweat. We'd sat there for so long that the light had shifted and the heat of Mid-day was starting to catch us with full force! Getting up to move into the shade of a large old mulberry tree offered us relief, but again did not stir the nearby ravens. I knew this bunch as being watchful and distrusting, so I felt it a great honor that our presence was accepted with such silence! Wandering under the shade I allowed my canine partner to sniff at will while our corvid companions began to creep closer. The birds moved in so very near to us that I'm sure to passersby on the street they all must have all looked like leashed pets! I clicked softly and the sentinel bobbed its head while clicking softly in response. I have to admit that I was feeling a bit like Snow White at that moment with my animal friends surrounding me so. Inwardly, I felt the rhythm of The Seven Goddess Chant stirring... Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inanna. For quite some time all of us creatures in the field wandered together in a slow wave of the start of a hot Summer day.
  Gradually the feel of the energy began to shift. I noticed that the sentinel was facing a different direction while holding its head alert. Without breaking any of the calm two pairs of silent wings lofted to a perch high above the field -- the look-out post. I smiled because it certainly felt as if my feathered friends were also looking over me, and I knew from past raven observations that two scouts are always sent to confirm a possible danger. I was enjoying the opportunity to watch the same types of behaviors from ravens that were thousands of miles apart from those I'd observed before yet exactly the same in kind. I was not disappointed by the next set of actions.

 From the tree tops the sentinel bird began to caw loudly in a staccato pattern. The second scout bird returned to the ground while flapping its wings making great noise. The sentinel too flew off with a large amount of flapping noise but moved away in a direction the rest of the group would likely soon follow. Now the scout on the ground issued forth a series of caws that was very strange -- a broken staccato with particular pauses that was similar to one long stuttered caw; Odd, yet the pattern seemed familiar. I swiftly searched my mental files, but before I could place what that call might mean the sound changed for a moment to one that I knew for certain... people are coming. Sure enough just a few seconds later I heard voices from the railroad tracks off to one side of the field. Corvid communication confirmed.

 I smiled while still wondering the meaning of the strange call that the raven had returned to with added gusto. In a flash of black diamonds all of the birds took flight into the sunlight at once, following after the sentinel as I'd suspected. Then I heard an engine with metallic clanking sounds approach, and from behind the tree line I saw a truck on the railroad tracks! It was noisy and unusual, so certainly worthy of the caution the ravens had shown, but now I remembered the meaning of the call! I've always had the habit of walking near railroad tracks, and back when I lived in the Pacific Northwest a similar type of truck would often drive along to police the tracks for debris; it's a pick-up with rail wheels added to the sides. I'd not seen one here before, and indeed had not seen one at all in many years. These raven here in Indiana gave the same type of alert call as did those back in Washington State when this type of vehicle would approach! Language use among animals is not unknown, and not just in dolphin... even regional dialects of some bird species are actively being studied these days, but to experience the communication so clearly was a true joy! The raven here have never given me an opportunity to observe them so closely, and I can't help but feel as if we made friends. I can't state exactly what that call means to the raven, but if I hear it again I'll bet anyone standing near me a cool twenty bucks that the truck will be coming!
  I left the field today with my coffee cup still in mind but also with a much greater sense of connection to the ground under my feet and the larger world around me. I'm not ready to adopt the morning walk into my personal routine, but I sure was glad for its addition today. I totally enjoyed chillin' with those cordial corvids! Now I'm home and typing this with my loyal coffee cup beside me and dog at my feet. New-Age music is playing while tendrils of incense smoke waft through the conditioned air. Perhaps when the day grows late, and the ravens take up their evening post in the tree tops outside my home, I'll step outside to say hello to my feathered neighbors.

May your days too be filled with many little blessings!
-- Tree


Copyright T. E. Pruitt, Tree Pruitt. For profit use is prohibited. *If you share the words then please credit the author too.

What Now

This small Flash Fiction story about a boy who is mysteriously lost in the woods was written in a single draft one evening. It was inspired by the need for hand written words on paper intended for use as collage art background. I considered what to write, and the first sentence simply came to mind. After that my good old fashioned ball point pen ate-up both sides of a trusty sheet of notebook paper. The result is as follows below.


What Now?

 The boy wearing red shorts had no clue what he was doing, but he pushed onward into the dense underbrush. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten outside. He didn't recall the Sun having set either, and he didn't know how the blood got onto his shoes. A tree branch smacked across his face, after having been begrudgingly shoved aside, leaving a small trickle of blood trailing down the boys cheek. He wiped it away.

  "Well," he thought to himself, "at least I know where that blood came from."

 His cheek stung, and even though he wasn't afraid of being in the forest at night alone, he began to cry a little. It wasn't really all that painful, but the shock of the hit and the slight pain were enough to overwhelm his patience with the situation; his tears were mainly from frustration. The soft light of a Half-Quarter Moon shone just brightly enough that he could see the glistening wetness of his tears dropping onto his open palms. On one hand the tears were pink. He watched as a tiny puddle of diluted blood formed; his blood. Blood. Bleeding. The boy snapped out of the daze that had momentarily gripped him and continued to move forward.

 He knew now that he had to find a trail, or better yet a road. He had to get home. For only a second he glanced down at his shoes. Small bits of the forest floor had stuck to the white leather sneakers -- leaves, twigs, and blood pressed together into cakes of gore. A second was all that it took for him to walk straight into a large tree trunk, knocking himself hard onto the ground. His head spun and throbbed at the same time. Now, tears fell in earnest. He let himself cry. He was generally a tough boy. He played on a soccer team and knew how to take a hit, but there were too many hits in a row on this night. He noticed that he'd fallen into a slight ditch after encountering the tree trunk and gotten turned around. He didn't want to loose track of the direction he'd been moving, so he stood up and brushed off his butt. As he turned to swipe the left cheek he spotted a cluster of white lights through the trees. They were moving. Flashlights?!

 "A search party!" The boy said excitedly aloud.

 Then, the image of his bloody shoes came to mind. What if!? He wondered if he'd been a witness, and the killer was at this very minute hunting him down to clean-up his tracks! What if I was in an accident so Search and Rescue are trying to find me? He questioned himself. The lights were definitely moving his direction. A whooshing sound filled his ears as his heart began to pump at triple-time flowing the pressure to a peak.

 Hurt, and now panicked too, the boy tucked himself under a cresting log in the ditch to hide. A space between rotting branches allowed him a sheltered view of the surrounding forest, though now to him the light of the Moon seemed dim. Every shape and shadow seemed to dance to life as his eyes strained to see more through the semi-darkness. The lights in the distance did dance and move, disappearing and reappearing from behind clusters of trees.

 The pounding in his ears had drowned out all sound -- or, wait -- there was no sound! He cocked his head side to side, now straining his ears instead of eyes. The usual chatter and chaos of insects had gone silent. The night birds had stopped calling to each other. The warm air was still so that not even the leaves above made a sound. He shivered and tucked his knees up to his chin.

 What now?

---

Copyright T.E. Pruitt, Tree Pruitt. For profit use is prohibited. *If you share the words then please credit the author too.

My Eye Will Not Forget

Blurred vision of a distant horizon where cedar rhythms dance my eye; American rainforest a-drip with neon green. Rivers run my pulse. Sunset explosion of fiery, bright orange; solid color fills the sky as if upon another world. The trees come down to kiss the shore where Pacific waves have their way. Red forest trails -- my eye is filled with wonder -- water hovers in the air! Faces look from shapes in trees ... primordial magic! Moss beds and alder swamps, blue mountains hold a burning secret. My eye will not forget.


"My Eye Will Not Forget", Tree Pruit 2004
"The Road To Aberdeen", Olympic & Hoh Rainforests Region USA, oil painting on canvas by Tree Pruitt.

*If you share the words then please credit the author too.