It was a bleak, grey day in Arches National Park. All was silent except for the eerie croak of ravens that filled the air. As I approach Balanced Rock, a raven flew down and perched on the fence post, fixing its beady, black eye upon me. With the fog swirling around Balanced Rock in the background and the desolate road reflected in its eye, it looked as though it was about to announce some foreshadowing of doom.