When the ravens came for the chickens, we defended our flock by putting up netting that prevents the ravens from attacking. And then we built a shrine for the ravens by the creek bend, where we will leave offerings of chicken eggs that they may still receive what they need.
This is a story from Elkenmist, telling how two residents dealt with the tragic and violent deaths of many of their chickens due to ravens. It is a story of reciprocity, as the decision to construct a shrine and leave offerings honors the ravens' place on this land that we now occupy with our human community, chickens and all.
It's a kind of relational aikido, to meet the ravens not with oppositional force, but with redirection. Ravens, will you accept our offering and show us then your reciprocity? Being in relationship with a place necessarily means being in relationship with the other beings that inhabit it, even the ones who don't show up to the meetings or dinner table. Important too, perhaps, to make a place for the wild gods so they don't try to come inside.
The importance of reciprocity has been the most poignant takeaway for me after spending 3 months coliving at Elkenmist during this season's Unschooling cohort. Reciprocity in human relationships means striving for a balance in what is given and received within the relationship. In animal or land relationships, it was not obvious to me how to practice reciprocity. But then I found myself called to the grove of spruce trees, after I spent the spring harvesting their bright green tips to make into syrups and vinegars. Reciprocity with the spruce trees took the shape, for me, of spending hours under their boughs with a hand saw, pruning away the dead branches in the understory. I was giving to them something they could not do for themselves, something that was made possible within the context of our relationship.
Through these lessons and stories I've deepened my understanding of reciprocity both intellectually and experientially. There is a somatic feeling to be recognized when I am within and without reciprocity. There is a practice for learning how to come back into balance. There is a joy and fulfillment in the gifts that emerge when reciprocity is prioritized. Reciprocity, I've learned, is a salve for arrogance and a medicine for pride.
Find Elkenmist residents @proxyuniversal & @jujubileen on twitter for more of their musings!
On July 17-21, 2024, Elkenmist will host Microsolidarity Summer Camp with a focus on exploring relationships of belonging with the ravens, creeks, and other more-than-human beings we share this place with. Consider joining us!