Ravens cheerleaders are dabbing on makeup and curling their hair in a changing room at M&T Bank Stadium. Poe, the team's overstuffed mascot, is pulling on his costume. And just a locker or two down, Rise and Conquer's personal assistants are trying to coax Baltimore's newest and most fussy football stars into their game-day uniforms.
Conquer lays one gray beady eye on his outfit and lets loose a warning squawk. When Sandy Ziolkowski, an animal technician from the Maryland Zoo, nevertheless tries to work the black satin suit over the bird's twitching head and past its fearsome beak, the feathered one starts wildly flapping, banging a locker and knocking over a stack of Gatorade cups.
But come showtime, also known as kickoff, the Ravens' authentic avian sidekicks are settled, centered and gamely outfitted, ready to reign majestically over the end zone, appear on national television, pose for photographs and stoke fans' team pride.
"When we take the birds out, it's so great to see how excited the community is about it," says Margaret Rose-Innes, animal embassy operations manager at the zoo, where Rise and Conquer live and train. "It's good for the zoo, it's good for the city and it's good for the football team."
On a recent Sunday morning, Rise and Conquer are holding court on Ravens Walk, each calm, unbelievably calm, really, on the arm of a zoo trainer.
Unruffled as thousands of fans herd past. Unruffled in the face of a beer and barbeque-scented breeze, blaring rock music, small children's sticky extended fingers. Unruffled with cell phone cameras held inches from their beaks.
Everyone wants a picture with the birds. "Oooh, that's the one you wanted to see," Annapolis mom Lisa Robertazzi says to her 9-year-old daughter, Caroline, leaning in to Conquer. As the two admire the bird's stillness and poise and marvel at how its seemingly black feathers glint a metallic purple in the sun, Robertazzi adds: "We all agreed though we love Poe, having the actual raven was a step up - it makes you proud."
Oscar Lynch, a 7-year-old from Chantilly, Va., leans in to get a better look at Rise. When the bird suddenly fluffs himself, the startled boy scoots to hide behind his dad.
The birds weigh just a pound and a half, but their powerful wings stretch to nearly four feet. A flap snaps the air, sounding almost like a crisp bedsheet being whipped into place.
