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Welcome to Get Sleepy, where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy.
My name's Thomas and I'm your host.
Thank you so much for tuning in.
Tonight we'll travel to a nature reserve in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, where we'll encounter the beauty and majesty of its residents and, in particular, a friendly raven.
Thanks so much to Frankie for writing this one, and to Arif who'll be narrating it for us.
Give yourself some time now to unwind from the day just gone.
Take a deep breath in, holding at the top.
Then gently release the air back out.
Find a pace that is comfortable for you. and continue to breathe deeply for the next few moments.
If you notice various things playing on your mind events from the day, your to-do list for tomorrow or any other worries, concerns or excitements that are keeping your brain busy Just know that it's quite normal.
But of course that doesn't create the ideal conditions for your mind to switch off and enjoy some sleep.
It's difficult to know how to deal with and respond to these thoughts without feeling overwhelmed.
But something I suggest is that each time a thought pops up in your mind vying for your attention, you just try saying to yourself not now.
By responding with those two simple words, you're sending a signal to your brain that you've acknowledged that the thought is there, but that this isn't the opportune time to deal with it.
So, it can gently float away like a cloud drifting across a blue sky.
And when you're better prepared to deal with that thought, it will come back to you during the day.
So, as thoughts come, just say, not now, and then let them go.
I hope this helps to soften and clear your mind so you can drift off with ease tonight.
With that greater sense of clarity starting to envelop you, allow your imagination to freely guide you through our story.
As we enter the nature reserve, feel the cool breeze of the late afternoon, smell the fresh scent of pine needles and hear the sounds of wildlife all around.
This is where our story begins.
The cheerful chattering of ravens fills the air.
They tease, cackle, and laugh at one another across the boughs of several large pine trees.
Black and shiny are their feathers.
A drab outfit for a bird that loves nothing more than to sit and gossip with its peers.
One small raven, tired of the chit-chat, turns his attention to the forest floor.
The late afternoon sun throws shafts of amber and gold across the woods.
The light nearly camouflages two russet-colored fluffs in the underbrush.
Never one to deny curiosity, the raven glides from its perch onto the ground.
A few seconds of rustling produces one, and then two, fox kits.
They are filled with energy and constantly pouncing, bouncing, nipping, and licking one another.
They are a warm reddish-brown color with black-tipped ears, tails, and noses.
Their eyes are the same color as their fur and betray a willingness even in foxes so young as these.
The raven watches with interest.
The youngsters seem to be locked in a never-ending competition, so well matched that the raven cannot say which will be the victor.
Finally, the siblings notice the bird.
The braver of the two pounces in the raven's direction.
The raven responds with a playful hop back and forth.
The kits, clearly thinking they have a new playmate, yip with joy and bounce around the raven.
A few minutes of jovial play leaves the raven tired, no match for the boundless energy of youth.
Thankfully, a curt call from the nearby mother fox sends the kits racing back towards their den and rescues the raven from playtime.
Curious as to what other joys his neighbors might bestow, the raven takes flight in search of them.
He heads high towards the canopy and bursts through the ceiling of branches into the expanse of the sky.
Below him lies miles upon miles of untouched forest.
The area is a protected nature reserve that provides a safe and bountiful home to a plethora of native species.
The raven catches a warm air current and allows it to carry him near a small lake.
The lake glitters gold in the light like a huge coin dropped from the pocket of a giant.
The raven alights on a branch, admiring the view.
A brown and white blur swoops past the raven and towards the lake's surface.
A large osprey glides into the water, shudders its wings, and dips beneath the surface.
A second later, the graceful bird reemerges with a small fish.
The water droplets roll down the osprey's back and off its tail in a shower of crystal clear rain.
The raven watches as the larger bird climbs effortlessly on the wind and perches in a large nest.
The nest, an ancestral nursery for the osprey and its family, has been built and rebuilt in this same tree for generations.
It is made at the very top of a large tree that is half alive and green and half charred and black.
The tree was struck by lightning, which served to darken and petrify the wood, providing the perfect place for a nest.
The raven can see a handful of little fledglings in the nest, eagerly greeting their parent and excited for their dinner.
Their down feathers make them look more like small squeaking clouds than younglings that will one day grow up to be majestic hunters.
The raven eyes the lake.
That dive didn't look that difficult.
The osprey made it seem easy.
Gathering itself up, the raven takes to the sky.
It glides towards the surface of the lake, mimicking the osprey.
Just as it reaches the surface, the raven feels the first few droplets of cold water and pulls up, landing on the shore.
Even those few droplets were enough to remind the raven that the water from this lake is fed by a snowmelt stream from the mountains.
The osprey may be used to the cold, but the raven is definitely not.
The raven calls to itself and decides to leave the fishing to the ospreys.
A cracking twig catches the raven's attention.
He hops in surprise as a herd of elk wander out of the forest and to the lake's edge.
The herd is composed of about 20 individuals.
They stand tall and proud.
Moving slowly through the vegetation...
Their tawny hides are gleaming in the sun, and their velvet noses sniff the fresh air.
The raven graciously makes room for them at the shore, but they continue to crowd around.
Finally, he flaps up and settles on the great horns of the herd's patriarch and protector.
The elk's crown of horns reaches high into the sky.
His large ears swivel this way and that, constantly scanning the surrounding area.
Around him, his family and herd quench their thirst in the cold, clear lake.
A youngling hobbles to the shore on shaky legs and must lean on her father to maintain balance while taking a drink.
The herd lows and snorts to one another in satisfaction.
A small splash makes the male elk turn his head quickly, forcing the raven to adjust his hold.
The young foal has slipped into the lake for the briefest of moments and then immediately jumps out.
She calls rather dramatically for her mother, who licks her dry with the mother's patience.
The raven releases a cawing laugh.
Sensing it is time to settle for the evening.
The elk leads his herd and mewling child back into the woods.
The raven abandons its horned perch and takes to the sky.
The raven barely reaches the canopy when a raucous noise catches his attention.
He alights on a branch and searches for the source of the sound.
A flash of red on a lower branch and then another appears up and to the right.
A cheerful chirping surrounds the raven as a pair of red squirrels race down the tree headfirst.
Squirrels, he should have known.
What other residents of the forest are as silly, rambunctious, and playful as squirrels?
They titter and squeak to one another as they play their game of vertical tag up and down the tree.
They race past the raven, one upside down on the branch.
The raven ruffles his feathers at the disturbance.
Suddenly, the twin squirrels stop on either side of him.
They investigate this funny blackbird closely.
Their tiny paws stroke his midnight-colored feathers.
Their tufted ears twitch with curiosity as they put their little faces as close as possible to his coal-colored beak.
They chirp at his call.
Finally, enduring their interest for long enough, the raven launches himself into the sky.
The squirrels squeak a farewell to their new friend.
The sun is dipping low in the sky, eager to rest its head below the horizon.
The raven flies idly towards the setting sun.
Its rays, normally a bright yellow, are now a deep amber.
The few clouds in the sky are bisected in creamy white and orange color.
Far to the east, the sky is already darkening.
As the sky transitions from day to night, so do the creatures of the woods.
The songbirds release their crooning melodies into the evening air, as if singing farewell to the day itself.
The inhabitants of the day wind down as those of the night begin to stir.
The raven glides across a meadow of wildflowers.
The faces of the flowers are lilac, baby blue, and pale yellow.
Even in the golden hour, they still turn their faces towards the last shreds of light peeking over the horizon.
The bumbling bees drone through the meadow and return to their hives for the night.
Only a few determined workers remain to collect the last few bits of nectar from The raven lands next to a black bear heading to its den for the evening.
They waddle together companionably for a while.
The orange light of the setting sun shines on the dark fur of the bear, casting a red glow around the gentle giant.
From the view of the raven, the red-tipped outline of the bear looks like his celestial namesake, Ursa Major.
Come down from the heavens to take a holiday on Earth.
At the edge of the meadow is a group of several large boulders.
They huddle together like stony figures sharing secrets.
They create a warm and wall-loved nook between them.
The raven watches the bear trundle between the rocks and into his aromatic bed of pine needles and crushed lavender.
The bear spends several minutes shifting, shuffling and snuffling to find the perfect position for sleep.
Finally, he settles himself.
The raven hopping from foot to food at the entrance to the den can feel the warmth radiating from the bear's great mass.
The raven, tempted by the apparent coziness, debates curling up next to him.
He imagines the soft embrace of the bear's fur.
The raven shakes his head and gives himself a caw of admonishment.
He's a raven, not a bear cub, and there are other things to be explored in the gathering dark.
The raven walks with his cowboy-like gait through the underbrush.
The sky is turning a lilac purple, tinting the entire world in a relaxing and sleepy hue.
The brambles and wild blackberry bushes create an ethereal walkway for the little bird.
The vines are dark greenery. summer's white flowers that precede the autumn's sweet berries.
The raven remembers when he and his dozens of relatives descended on the bushes and had their fill of blackberries.
Had their feathers and beaks not already been the color of purest onyx, they most certainly would have been stained a royal purple by the delectable juices.
Off to one side of the winding passages in the bushes the raven can hear some snuffling and movement.
Eager to find a new friend, the raven follows the sound Around.
The next bend he happens upon a just barely mature skunk.
The kitten-like creature digs its nose into the ground, looking for tasty treats.
The adolescent skunk sees the raven and hurries over its fluffy tail, following like a black and white sentinel.
The skunk has just woken up for the evening, being a nocturnal creature.
Only just old enough to be on its own.
The skunk approaches the raven with the sleepy hope of finding a surrogate mother.
It snuggles a warm nose into the raven's feathers like a cat desperate for affection.
The raven croaks a gentle admonishment and moves along.
Sometimes younglings need a little tough love to brave the new, independent world.
In such a large, healthy and, above all, safe forest, the young skunk is sure to grow into a happy and flourishing adult.
Out the other side of the brambles, the raven comes to a grove of silver birches.
The afterglow of the sunset leaves the faintest trace of yellow light on the pale trunks of the trees.
Their numerous knots are like the eyes of the forest protectively watching over its inhabitants.
The pale green leaves on the branches wave and sway gently in the cool breeze.
Looking up from the forest floor, the canopy of birches moves with the same steadiness as the rhythm of breathing.
Listening closely, one can almost hear the woods themselves breathing, releasing life-giving oxygen with every exhale.
The raven, desiring a better look at the grove, flaps silently to a branch.
Surveying the area, And swaying gently with the movement of the tree, the raven spots something.
A long and graceful body slinks from shadow to shadow.
A patch of silvery moonlight reveals a feline face.
A solitary mountain lion has begun her evening patrol.
Her territory ranges up to 500 square miles.
She prefers to take her contemplative nightly strolls alone.
She brings to mind the ancient Greek goddess Artemis, the goddess of the moon, the chase and unaccompanied power.
The mountain lion's face is outlined in white and black against a tawny-colored coat that reaches from keen ears to a long tail.
Her eyes are golden pools of secret knowledge.
She pauses and sniffs the air, taking in the myriad scents on the night's breeze.
Each one tells her a story from the activity of the day.
She turns her head up to where the raven watches her and returns his stare.
She dips her head briefly and blinks, a sign of respect from one mystical creature to another.
Then she continues her pensive walk through the grove and is soon out of sight.
A piercing call cuts through the still night air.
The raven looks up to see the outlined form of a bald eagle gliding across the sky.
The dim light of the night does not do its majestic form justice, merely reducing it to a black silhouette, whereas in the daytime there is a noble white head, bright yellow beak and intelligent eyes perched on a large brown body.
It is surely returning to its nest for the night.
The eagles mate for life, in complete contradiction to the lonely mountain lion.
They eat, hunt, sleep, and raise young in one another's company.
The enduring companionship of such great birds is a steadfast constant in the ever-changing forest.
Even tonight They will share their nest together, huddle together for warmth and sleep the comforting sleep of lovers.
It is a wonder of the natural world that a creature so seemingly fearsome lives the majority of its life in a tender embrace.
The raven watches the eagle's shadow disappear, thinking back to its own family, and makes the decision to return for the night.
The raven climbs through the air and above the trees.
Below him, the forest passes like a deep emerald carpet under the darker blue ceiling of the sky.
He gives in to the wild abandon of flying.
The pure freedom of being lifted and held by the very wind is the joy of birds alone.
Only in the sweet embrace of dreams may humans get a taste of that exhilaration.
A human's eye would not be able to discern the landmarks or subtle changes in the world below.
But a lifetime in the forest and generations of ancestral knowledge have given the raven a powerful homing instinct.
He can hear the unique evening caws and chatter of his flock amongst the plethora of nightly sounds.
He swoops down to them, alighting on the highest branches of their great pine trees.
His companions, friends, and family greet him with comforting gestures.
They nuzzle him, preen his feathers, and call gently to him.
The ravens begin to quiet themselves and turn their attention to the unending sky.
Far from the nuisance of light pollution, the sky above this nature reserve is clearer than a crystal ball.
The stars shine brightly, reflecting back to Earth a snapshot of the ancient world.
These stars are the same that ancestral peoples saw millennia ago.
They saw them so clearly that they could assign names, creatures and deities to the celestial bodies.
They peered into the heavens and wove stories to comfort themselves through the long nights.
Some people told great epics about the goddess of the moon driving her chariot across the sky each night.
Some people told stories of how the constellations began life as various creatures before being set among the stars for eternity.
Some people told the story of how the Raven went from black to white, pierced holes in the blanket of the night to create the stars and brought the light of the moon back to the world.
Raven always liked that story.
For now, the sky is such a deep purple that it is nearly black.
The stars are points of silver light glittering like jewels.
Here and there, some larger lights are tinted red, gold, or blue.
They denote other heavenly bodies that continue their endless vigil over our planet.
The most breathtaking view is the full glittering streak of the Milky way across the sky, containing multitudes of planets and stars.
Perhaps they are like a flock of Elysian ravens watching over the earth, the same way that the earthbound ones watch the sky.
Under the ceiling of the stars and above the warm carpet of the earth.
The raven huddles close to his companions.
The forest, still full of life, settles in for a peaceful night. you .
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