The Raven that played me

A Mulit-Day Prank in the Bush

I should have realized earlier that I was being pranked!

An interesting wildlife encounter while walking in Tasmania’s South West

It started simply enough. A raven greeted me at camp on the first morning. Nothing unusual – ravens are common, curious birds. I packed up, started walking, and thought nothing of it.

Then the showers began.

The Setup

It had rained overnight, and every branch and leaf was loaded with water. The trail wound through dense bush, and walking meant occasionally brushing past wet vegetation.

But something was off. Every few minutes, I’d get absolutely drenched by water cascading from above – far more than just brushing a branch. I’d look up to see a raven launching itself from the exact branch that had just dumped water on me.

Coincidence, I thought. Just a bird moving through the canopy.

Except it kept happening.

Day One: Suspicion

By the end of day one, I’d been showered at least six times.

I started watching more carefully. Sure enough, the raven would fly ahead, land deliberately on a branch heavy with rainwater, and wait. The timing was too perfect. The branch selection too precise.

This bird was deliberately dumping water on me.

Day Two: Confirmation

The second morning after mor evening rain, the raven greeted me and was waiting at the campsite ready for the days antics.

I broke camp, started walking, and within ten minutes: shower from above, raven flying off ahead.

It continued all day. The raven would stay just ahead of me, land on the wettest, most heavily loaded branches, time my approach perfectly, and dump water with what was clearly deliberate intent.

I started talking to it. “Really? Again?” I’d call out after each soaking.

That night at camp the Raven hung out, never a few meters away but was never interested in my food. The Raven seemed to actually enjoy the company.

Day Three: Game On

By day three, I’d had enough of being the passive victim to the Ravens game plan.. Time to play back.

I started actively watching for the raven. Scanning the branches ahead. Looking for movement in the canopy. When I spotted it landing, I’d alter my route, dodge to the side, or stop short of the trigger zone.

The raven noticed immediately. The game changed.

Now it became strategic. The bird would try to land on branches without me noticing, positioning itself stealthily. I’d scan ahead, trying to spot the movement before getting close. Sometimes I’d catch it and dodge successfully – a small victory. Other times it would outsmart me, landing in my blind spot and getting me anyway.

We were playing cat and mouse. Or rather, human and raven.

The remarkable thing? The raven seemed to enjoy the challenge more when I fought back. When I successfully dodged, it would immediately reposition for another attempt. This wasn’t about winning – it was about the game itself.

The Final Day

On the last day of the hike, as I approached the trailhead, the raven gave one final performance. A spectacular shower from a branch directly above the trail exit, soaking me just as I was about to reach my car.

I stood there, dripping, and couldn’t help but laugh.

What I Learned

This experience reminded me that we’re not alone in the bush. We share these spaces with intelligent creatures who have their own agendas, personalities, and apparently, senses of humor.

The raven didn’t need me. It wasn’t relying on me for food or showing distress. It was simply entertaining itself by messing with a passing human.

That kind of playfulness suggests a level of cognitive sophistication that’s easy to forget when we think of wildlife as purely survival-driven.

The Best Hiking Companion

I’ve hiked with many people over the years. Some talkative, some quiet, some helpful, some exhausting.

But that raven might have been the most entertaining hiking companion I’ve ever had.

Yes, I was the butt of the joke. Yes, I spent three days getting repeatedly soaked by a bird that was clearly enjoying itself at my expense.

But the intelligence, the persistence, the sheer audacity of the prank? That was remarkable.

A Different Kind of Wildlife Encounter

Most wildlife encounters are fleeting. A wallaby bounding away. A bird calling from a distance. Animals that want nothing to do with humans and vanish at the first sign of approach.

This was different. This was sustained interaction with a wild creature that chose to engage – not for food, not for protection, but apparently for entertainment.

It’s the kind of experience that reminds you that the bush is full of thinking, feeling creatures living complex lives we only occasionally glimpse.

And sometimes, just sometimes, those lives include pranking unsuspecting hikers for three straight days.

I’ll remember that raven longer than most other experiences. Not because it was rare or beautiful or dangerous, but because it had personality. It played a game, and it played it well.

And somewhere in my hiking memories, there’s a bird that reminded me that nature has a sense of humor.

I just happened to be the punchline.