Visiting a Raven’s Nest in a Wheelchair: An Experience of Challenges and Wonder

Text and images by Melanie LaForce

Disabled people face an incredible number of difficulties in life. For example, there are complications when providing an outdoor experience for individuals in wheelchairs. But, while getting out in nature may seem daunting, with planning and foresight, wheelchair-bound people can be empowered to experience the natural world in a positive light.

My daughter regularly faces these challenges as a wheelchair-bound individual. Here is a story about how we visited ravens nesting at a site along a nature path in Arlington. I am a Master Naturalist who learned about the ravens (Corvus corax) at an event and recounted the story to my family at dinner. My daughter, always keen on nature and birds, is a young adult in a wheelchair who wanted to go see them. But there were multiple issues that affect this nature experience.

Basic considerations for any outing with my daughter are to:

• plan a short foray at an optimal time of day which is successful and pleasant, understanding that she tires after 4 hours of wakefulness and then must sleep;
• ensure that she had eaten and used the bathroom before leaving home;
• completely charge the wheelchair, with an extra battery along just in case the installed battery fails.
• know that the approach to a trail and trail are accessible for an electric wheelchair.  A non-electric wheelchair cannot handle steep inclines and slopes.  

In addition, there were challenges with conditions in getting to the nest. While Arlington County provides numerous trails of different grades, boardwalks, bridges, and good signage, what seems like an “accessible” path may, in fact, be less than you expected for a wheelchair. For example, if it has rained before visiting a park, the trail may be gritty and wet; hence, with low traction and slippery. This is an important consideration.

So first, I needed to locate the ravens myself to figure out the best route to view them. I wasn’t sure where they were and just followed general guidance from people passing by in the general location. Considering my daughter’s access, it took about three hours to find a route, try different paths, and think about how to move with a wheelchair. I settled on parking the car on the other side of a stream, walking down on a steep path, crossing a bridge, and walking up the other side and along a bike path to get to the fairly large and messy nest under a highway bridge. I took pictures and then posted them our family chat line so we could discuss what could be done. I was careful not to raise expectations too high just in case it would not be possible to get to the nest.

Once we agreed that this would be a great outing, my daughter and I set out on the excursion on a pleasant day. We took along water bottles, binoculars, and a towel in case the chair seat got hot.

As we drove to the parking site, we discussed ravens, their biology, and their mythical meaning in American Indian lore—ravens as messengers. We also talked about the ravens in the Tower of London; Edgar Allen Poe’s famous poem, “The Raven; and Baltimore’s football team name. (I admire a city that names its sports teams after birds.) We spoke of the intelligence of ravens, and their connection to crows. And all along the way, I was careful to keep expectations low about actually seeing them, so as not to disappoint. Even though my daughter isn’t a complainer, not coming through on a planned activity can be more crushing emotionally and intellectually for a wheelchair-bound person.  Much more goes into having a successful experience than just getting there.

We arrived at the starting spot at 1 p.m. and parked the car. Then I prepared the chair, and checked on the spare battery, the water bottles, and a towel for a possible hot seat. I had to maneuver the chair out of the car (it weighs about 70 lbs.), unfold it, and then place my daughter comfortably on the seat.  We marked the time.

We also discussed the steepness of the route that required me to hold the chair as it rolled and also skidded down parts that were gravely and covered in leaves.

It helped that my daughter had experience with this type of terrain and was not disturbed by the maneuvering. I needed to push the chair up the hill despite its electronic power. Knowing when to push and pull, hold, and steady an electronic chair, just takes experience. The steepness surprised us, though. Would my daughter slide off the chair? It can happen. But luckily, all went well down, across, and up the other hill. We worked in unison to maximize the power of the chair. And along the way, we enjoyed noting the flowers, birds, and other pieces of evidence of life in the natural world.

My daughter loves spotting little fish darting in a stream. She is closer to the ground in the chair, so she sees nature differently than upright adults. She often can see more! There are benefits to being in a low chair and having a keen eye. 

Then we came upon a level path and turned to roll a while, meeting and talking with passers-by. When I asked my daughter where she thought we’d find the ravens—just then, a large black bird circled and honked a snorty sound. It circled in, as if to show us where the nest was built—under the eve in a bridge.

Fuzzy heads and snorting sounds signaled the babies’ hunger. One parent, perched on a part of the bridge stood guard. The other parent circled and landed on the edge of the nest. Quickly, I passed the binoculars to my daughter, and she saw the parent feed the greedy, open beaks. The babies made quite the sounds. We did not approach too close to the nest, staying more than 30 feet away. The parents watched ever so carefully for intruders. “Oh mom, look! They are feeding!” my daughter exclaimed. We watched in awe and marveled at the nature before us, of new life, the simplicity, the glory, the wonder, and the delight. The raven parents looked down at the other two-legged parent with a kid that had two legs and four wheels.

Soon it became too hot for my daughter to sit and watch the ravens, and she signaled the need to get back. She was already sitting in a pool of sweat; her body unable to appropriately cool itself. The two of us then pushed and pulled down and across hills and up again to the car. I grabbed the car keys and turned on the car and A/C. I helped my daughter to the front seat as she was showing signs of exhaustion. Quickly folding and lifting the chair into the back of the car, I prepared to leave. On the way back, we talked about what we experienced; the delight and wonder, and questions sparking additional curiosity and a desire for more visits into “the wild.”

This is what it means to me to be a Master Naturalist: empowering others no matter what the challenges may be, to experience the beauty and wonder of nature.