And Then, the Head Raven Said, "Bring Out the Gimp"

In the early-morning hours, the midnight-black bird with beady eyes peered into the visitor center window and then banged its anvillike beak on the glass for hours on end, clawing and pecking until it was bloody red. . . .

The staff, perplexed by the unusual behavior, called in an ornithologist to diagnose the disturbed bird. . . .

The ravens have been tearing the rubber blades right out from the windshield wipers of cars parked near the visitor center.

Cathi Jones, natural resource manager at North Cascades National Park, suspects the male raven to be the culprit, but she isn't positive.


The ravens could be bored, looking for a challenge -- we really don't know," Jones said. "Or maybe they have a fetish with rubber."

I wouldn't be surprised. Last time I ran into one of these Seattle ravens, it was outside of my office. He had on some wet leather chaps. There was a silver chain running through the hoops in the piercings in his breast and his Prince Albert. Bold, like the ravens in this story, he was rubbing himself suggestively against my leg, squawking, "How do you know you wouldn't like it! - Caw - "How do you know you wouldn't like it!" Nope, it wouldn't surprise me at all to hear one was into rubber.