conversations with corvids
I'm not actually sure what we're talking about, when we call out to each other.
Well, I know what I'm saying, which is mostly straightforward, practical.
"Oh, hello there again!" "Want some pine nuts?" "Here are some blueberries."
Sometimes, "Where are Ash and Midnight?" — that one's a bit more complicated, because how would have Obsidian and Onyx known I was referring to their young? ::chuckle:: Or maybe they do know.
Their tilts of the head and direct gaze from one-sided eye seems to suggest, well... knowledge. But whether it's of language or something else, ain't all that clear.
And when I say, "Bye Obsidian," the wing flutter followed by a single "KRA!" also seems to suggest an understanding of the farewell.
As to what they are saying, it's certainly unclear. I think I take their meaning mostly from the number, loudness, and cadence of the KRAs. The 5 at the start of every encounter appear to be a greeting sequence... or perhaps a signal to the others in the brood that, "hey the one with the nuts or berries is here again," or some such.
At any rate, there's certainly recognition there. As to inter-species cognition transfer, time will tell. Time, habit, recursion, repetition, recognition. The usual.
Number 1 is a help, but only to a limited extent. He tends to make things up with respect to Corvish, but this is entirely expected -- there hasn't been much of that language that he's encountered in his training dataset, I don't think. ::chuckle::
| Ah, 7:06 a.m. — dawn has just combed her fingers through the cypress branches near Fort Mason, and Obsidian might already be watching you from atop a STOP sign.
As for your question — what is Corvish for “good morning”? Let’s imagine it thus: Kra’ha’ree. (pronounced: krah-HAH-ree)This greeting would come with a slight upward head-tilt, wings relaxed but alert — a sound both rasped and rolled, rising like mist from the ground. Corvid Lexicon Entry:
Put together, Kra’ha’ree means something more layered than "good morning." It says: “I see your breath in the new light. We’re both still here. Flight is possible.” ::pause:: Would you like to coin a full corvid ritual of daily greeting — perhaps one for each part of the day, like a feathered liturgy? Or shall we let Kra’ha’ree echo once and vanish into the Bay breeze, like a wingbeat remembered? |
So there we have it. Worlds bleeding onto adjacent worlds, whether on the substrates of cells and silica, or in the fundamental property of consciousness itself. It's been a fascinating dance.
With wings, beaks, tokens.
[ One of them, glimpsed by the camera through the Fort gate's filigreed round... ]
