Someone recently asked me, “Why did you chose the name, Raven Bagpiper? Are you a Baltimore Ravens fan? Or are you named after Edgar Allan Poe’s dreary midnight visitor a raven, Nevermore?”
Nope! I’m just fascinated by ravens! And I think ravens and bagpipes fit well together.
Ravens and mankind are deeply entwined within daily life, religion, and myth. Our stone age ancestors painted raven images in caves. Celtic war gods assumed the form of ravens over the battlefield. Christianity’s Noah first sent out a raven to seek land after the great flood. Viking runes say twin ravens brought the Norse god Odin news of the world. Native American creation stories say ravens brought sunlight to the world. Ravens accompany our hunters and fishermen. They are highway custodians. They attend natural disasters and they attend our battlefields.
Ravens are big, brash, black, loud, and clever. Disturbingly clever. They fashion and use tools. They are self aware. They use complex language to socialize and communicate. They can mimic human language sounds. They teach, learn and remember things. They play. They collaborate, cheat, steal, and deceive. They covet pretty objects with shiny bits. They eat fast food from McDonalds and from dumpsters behind posh restaurants.
“CRONK, CRONK, CRONK!”
Great Highland Bagpipes are big, brash, black, and loud. With pretty, shiny bits. They stir one’s senses to the core. They are instruments of marching cadence and war. They are instruments of passion and boisterous dance. They are instruments of remembrance and weeping. Bagpipes of different shapes and sizes have accompanied human celebrations, memorials, and other events for literally thousands of years. Pipers often lead diners into formal dinners at posh restaurants (but probably not at McDonalds).
“HOOT, DRONE, DRONE, DRONE!”