Yesterday, while hiking and snowshoeing up Mt. Elden in Flagstaff, I saw ravens playing mid-air. The twirled and dived in groups, soared with thick sticks in their claws, and then seemed to enjoy dropping the sticks and watching them fall hundreds of feet down.

Mount Elden’s top is barren and stark with only stone and old, dark dead trees. A forest fire set by campers 30 years ago made it this way, and new growth still has not reached the top where the ravens were.