I am with a group of peo­ple plan­ning to join a crowd for Mid­sum­mer; one of the women there calls me out before we leave for not hav­ing a spir­it guide with me. We head on over to the gath­er­ing and the crowd is siz­able. There is a com­mo­tion off to the left and some­thing is mov­ing through the peo­ple. I fig­ure it is a dog since it appears that every­one is try­ing to pet it. It is head­ed my way and I am look­ing for­ward to see­ing what is caus­ing the stir.

It is a feath­er­less raven — it looks sick. It still has tail-feath­ers and pin­ions, but the rest of it is bald with irri­tat­ed skin. I squat to get a clos­er look, it comes right up to me and starts grouch­i­ly croak­ing and cawk­ing. I reach out and scratch its neck and it gur­gles with plea­sure and starts climb­ing up my arm since it can’t fly. I can tell it does­n’t want any help doing this and is still grouchy, and I’m a lit­tle wor­ried that what­ev­er caused its feath­ers to fall out might affect me too, but not wor­ried enough to get rid of the old thing. It needs help and likes me. It stays on my left shoul­der.

I am rid­ing my bicy­cle down a hill and when I come to a stop the raven flies off — I appre­hend that this is some time lat­er, but the raven is still bald, though it can appar­ent­ly fly now. I am unsure if I should seek it out, or it let return to me in its own time and if it wills.