Thanks Sis!

Thanks to my sister-in-law for this super photo of a Crow at sundown.

This composition shows the "wild" bird, observing the miniscule, pathetic city, receding back into the earth, in contrast with nature's mighty,  sky-scraping tree. The ominous clouds, pink from the setting sun, foreshadow the demise of our doomed artificial lifestyle. That's my cynical take anyway.

Otherwise, it is just a photo beautifully capturing the eloquent simplicity of the connection between life and the physical universe we've managed to spring forth within. 

Nice work Mimi!

A Few Pics

It's a jungle gym out there!

Twilight blue and purple hues in Fig's plumage.

 

 After a hard day of Miss miss-behaving at the park, Fig puts her feet up, literally.

I got this odd shot by pure chance. That isn't Fig's head, it's just the color and shape of the tree which looks just like a Crow's head! Too weird!!!

Messing Around with Movies

Fig is attacking her tethers to the beat. Just a chance, silly thing that happened while messing around with a movie app.

Jungle What?

Actually, they're Jungle Gym Crows.

Fig cannot resist anything that offers a perching opportunity. She now flies all the way home on her own on our way home from walks by "flying," skipping, and hopping from perching spot to perching spot, if I let her. I used to be able to walk around with her on my arm, but now I carry her like a baby upside down, which she likes thankfully, and will endure for 30minutes or more without complaint. Otherwise she's playing too much where cars and bicycles roam wildly.

 

Girls Day In

After almost two years, my wife finally overcame her fear of Crows/Fig. She's naturally very patient, gentle, and respectful towards animals, and always earns high respect from them for that, but I thought this day might never come. She has started playing with Fig, and bringing her inside on her own all of a sudden! Fig even told her, I love you, over and over again. I have to give Fig credit too though, as she's the one who initiated play, and remained calm and trusting enough to be transported inside by someone who never handled her before. When I came home today, Fig was even happier than usual, for having made a new play friend, and closer connection. Scientists need to figure out how exactly birds manage to smile, and have such a colorful repertoire of facial expressions. Here is  the photo my wife took after playing with Fig, and bringing her in for the very first time on her own. You can see she's quite beaming, and satisfied with herself, too, about having made ground socially. And she's improved a lot over her fear of iPhones, as you can see, totally relaxed, foot up and everything. Bravo ladies!

You may have noticed that Fig's tethers are removable. She actually enjoys wearing permanent tethers, but I feel it may be safer to have them removed when she goes unsupervised. I am happy to share the design I use with anyone interested. They are very easy to put on and take off once the bird is well trained. They are suitable for Crows in particular as the design is intended to stifle their uncanny Houdini-like ability to escape from knots, loops, and pretty much any constraint. 

Just a recent pic...more to come.

It is easy to tell when Fig is very sleepy; here you can see, she has dried off after her nightly shower and face wash, and is now very sleepy, and totally zoned out, staring blankly, cuddling her favorite bit of plastic jump rope as always. She is quite plump, having been fattened up a bit over the winter with more fat in her diet to endure the cold better with only one wing able to fully retract. Her neck feathers are clean, fluffy, and thick. Time to dim the lights for an hour before popping her into her insulated sleeping box for the night. I am planning to post many pics and videos soon. So far I haven't because I wanted to focus on recording what I have been learning about caring for this bird, and honestly, I have worried that she would never get this far, but I feel I have a better sense for how to care for her now, so perhaps I should be more optimistic.

What's It Like Walking a Crow

Real learning means tackling something about which you have no knowledge, making mistakes, and confronting the fear of utter failure. It is terrifying and exhilerating, and terrifying. It is also terrifying and terrifying. This is what it is like, for me, walking Fig.

Fig is what is called a passage bird. My understanding is that this means that she was raised in the nest by her parents and family, to fledge (first flight). I saw her fall from my building when she fledged. This means that I found her at about 5 weeks of age, and she had already imprinted completely on birds, that humans would be naturally feared. We are.

Passage birds have had a "primary school education" from birds, and as such, they have a level of independence that birds raised from a younger age do not acquire. It makes them much safer out in the world being naturally reared, presuming that they can fly in the end, but when they cannot fly, it presents their caretakers with a serious challenge, because taming them is easy enough, but getting them to trust you and bond with you enough that they can and will follow instructions reliably, and stay safe, for their own sake, is not. Fig thinks she can hop all over town, and fend for herself. She can not. Especially in early spring, other Crows are very territorial and aggressive. And there are predators about, on the ground, and in the air. And there are endless hazards, not least of which is Fig herself.

I take her out with tethers on her legs. Sometimes she doesn't pay them any attention, but other times she hates them. She has been untethered many times, but recently she is more adventurous with breeding season, so I tether her always when we go out.  Tethers are very dangerous for an animal that is healthy, but much more dangerous for one that is already handicapable as Fig is. She is her own worst enemy at times, especially when she is hyper, playful, or naughty which is most of the time. She loves to play "chase"; she wants me to chase her around. She loves to be disobedient, going off somewhere when I told her to go somewhere else. And she gets very excited outside, and has a hard time containing that excitement. All of these things make it very difficult to maintain control over her; she IS a two year old toddler. I expect things will become less crazy as she ages, if she continues to cheat death, but it is nerve racking trying to give an injured bird, with legs as thin as pencils, but hollow, a bit of quality time at the park, when she wants to run about like she owns the place.

The other day was a typical outing, with a few highlights, which is also typical. There are always lows and highs to every outing with Fig. Getting her home safely is never guaranteed, but getting her outside is required. A Crow cannot be caged, contained, full time. She needs to get out for 1-3 hours 2-3 times per week minimum. During the week, I do not always have that time, so there are times when I take her to the park late in the afternoon when it is getting dark, something she hates, but the park is well lit, and she is a bit better behaved in the dimmer light. Also, we don't have to worry about hawks, which out number owls around here, only the feral cats, which are a pretty cowardly crew, and easy to spot.

Fig likes to fly, and will spend an hour or more taking short flights. She can only manage about 5-6 meters, at a 45degree down glide. If I toss her up in the air, or hold her up high, she gets a start from 8-9 feet, and can manage 7-8 meters and pick up a lot of speed which she then manages to translate into a horizontal glide of another 6-7 meters on the pressure wave just above the surface of the ground. Flying is hard on her, as is landing. She works up a good pant, and her bad wing hangs a bit more than usual after a while. She is the one choosing to fly; I do not make her do it. If she gets really tired she will limit herself to shorter flights, and dash around on the ground instead, or perch and preen. She loves being chased, and she's quite good at hiding behind trees, or skipping along at a good pace. She understands exactly what, "I'm gonna get you." means.

Sometimes Fig lets me decide when she will take off and where she's going to go, other times she decides when and where. It is frustrating, but I have to remember, it's not training, and it's not handling which are the most important thing, it's playing together. There has to be give and take because if I control too much, that simply turns up the volume on rascalliness. I am learning as I go, and it is slow going. There's no way around it; it is exactly the same as human parenting.

Even though Fig is a child herself, she seems to understand what human children are. She interacts with them more readily, and has less fear of them. The other day I was talking to some elementary school kids, and telling them a little about Crows. They could not believe that Fig had a word for water (Awa), food, friend, etc... So I said to Fig, Awa, knowing that she was thirsty after her exercise time, and she immediately perked up, as if to say, Ooh, good idea! Then she flew across the playground, and jumped up on the water fountain. The kids just stood there amazed while she guzzled down some water. So did I. I was not expecting that.

There is an old man who comes to exercise at the park every night. Fig recognizes him. When he takes his after exercise sit down break, she always runs across the park, jumps up on the back of his bench, fluffs up, and preens herself like crazy right next to his head. He'll usually scoot over a bit. He is an unusually good sport. She really likes him, and it shows. She is offering him a bit of company. He is a nice guy. He always talks to her, and looks at her very fondly, so Fig is obviously a good judge of character, and quite capable of making friends.

I can simply gesture to Fig, shall we go play over there, and if she wants to, she's off in that direction. If she doesn't, there is no making her go. She has a plan with a long list of things to jump on, places to hop, places to preen, perches to visit, walls to mount and run along, trees to sit in, picnic tables to climb on, roots to roost on, poles to hide behind, trees to run around...it is a long, impulsive, compulsive, neurotic list of things to do at the playground before she will agree to going home peaceful and satisfied.

Lately, she is very affectionate too. The school kids said Pet Pet, as I instructed them to do before petting her, and she goes right along, and puts her head way down so they can give her a good neck scratch. If I let strange adults pet her, she may yell at me later very seriously at home, but she has no qualms with little kids petting her.

On our way home, Fig likes to ride upside down in one hand, while she holds onto my shirt with both feet, or in my jacket if it is cold. She is happy to be going home, and she does not complain about being cradled in the least. She knows where we are, and exactly how long it is going to take. She knows when we have arrived home. She happily plays with the tether ropes, and enjoys the bouncey walk home. She loves having her legs and body massaged, and even lets me gently hold her by the tail feathers these days. She'd have squawked up a storm about that only months ago.

When we get home, I have to remove the tethers, it is the last of many hazards Fig and I faced, as she is anxious to get them off, be free again, and on her familiar perch. I'm not able to relax until I see her back on that perch unharmed. Then she has a shower, and a face wash, and after all that attention and exercise, she is a tired, but a very happy bird. She actually says, "I love you." to me in English after walks, after food, after a shower, at appropriate times. She knows what it means, and she uses "I love you." generously in earnest.

I'm just glad she didn't fly into something, break a leg, sprain a wing, get attacked by a cat or a dog, lose an eye to a tree branch, or some other hazard.

This Crow is young, high strung, and yes, wild, in every sense of the word. As I crouch in the park, with her happily preening on my arm, I am all too aware, that she is a delicate, fragile animal, with a dare devil personality, hell bent on living on the edge, one moment to the next. I'm doing my best to ensure no harm comes her way, but I don't kid myself, it could happen. Fig and I have a long way still to go. We are not yet a well oiled machine. Both of us are learning.




 

Feeding a Crow

Feeding Fig is one of the most challenging things I've ever tried to do in my life. It's a fulltime parental obsession, because I try and balance her diet, introduce new things, and encourage Fig to finish her food, and eat things she may not immediately like right off the bat, just as I do with my son. She has cultivated a very omnivorous palate and she does try to get positive feedback by eating stuff which she may decide to toss aside without my praises. People keep saying to me, Crows can eat garbage! But this is not true.

In Japan people have large traps in their kitchen sinks to catch trimmings and waste; disposals are very rare. The Crows target these piles of food, and they pick through them very very meticulously to find the tiniest scraps of skin, fish, meat, tofu, vegetables, especially with seeds, and many things that are anything but garbage. They do not simply gorge on garbage. And while you may see what you interpret as gorging, that is likely a rushed "swallow" which will be taken somewhere more private for sorting. Crows usually gorge, fly off, regurgitate, sort, and then once tasty morsels are "eaten", those are taken to water where they are washed, then, finally eaten. So, no, Crows do not eat garbage, they very meticulously extract edible food from it.

And people keep asking me, but isn't a Crow messy? Well, not really. Fig goes to the bathroom in the same place, and she even knows how to stash away extra food in Tupperware. Below you can see she has neatly stashed her extra omelette back into an egg shell (below).

What's interesting about this picture to me is that Fig had several types of food available to her as she usually does every day. On this day she had this egg and tofu omelette, brown rice cereal flakes, white bread, dry cat food, a small bit of cooked fish, meal worms, two kinds of fruit, peanuts, and slice of steamed egg plant. But Fig chose to cram only the egg back into the eggshell. She often will cache her favorite food, and eat the less tasty fare first, same as kids who might eat all their broccoli and save their meat for last, or kids who save Halloween candy for months on end. So really, humans are the messy ones. We leave a trail of waste wherever we go.

The one thing that does drive me a bit crazy is the caching. Fig will wet food, and mush it into paste, then she'll use the paste to cram gaps, cracks, patterns, textures, overhangs, holes, folds, and any unseen place full of food. She is very very good at finding places that are difficult to see, difficult to even imagine might be there to begin with. If she hid your Easter eggs, you would never find them. When I clean her living space, I'm like a jail warden trying to find that one piece of old contraband chicken liver she has stuffed into the cap of her toothpaste, or the spring of her bed. It's a total shakedown.

In fact, Fig has special perches to accommodate her need to cache food. The perches are rolled in fleece fabric, to protect her foot pads from lots of jumping around. The fabric is rolled around the perch, then zip tied at intervals. Fig caches food under her perches, in the "pockets" between zip ties. This prevents her caching food in hard to clean places, as I simply remove the fabric and launder it once a week. I can also collect old food, and stash healthy treats when she's not looking, and keep her healthier. If I wrap the fabric in such a way that no pockets form, Fig will tear holes in the fabric to cache food. Providing the cache pockets prevents her from destroying her perch covers.

Fig likes tomatoes and oranges, and when she eats those she shakes her head back and forth wildly to clean her beak. So, walls can quickly look like a murder scene. Cutting foods in ways that facilitate easy consumption without flailing is an art.

Feeding a Crow is harder than people might think. The act of feeding is a powerful bonding tool, so I try and feed Fig by hand as much as I can. She is okay with by hand, I mean, she will come and get it, but she is not really a from hand sort, unless the portion is tiny. She wants take out. That's just instinct. She can't relax and eat with others breathing down her neck, eyeballing her grub. I try and offer both take out, and eat from my hand, or from a cup while perched on my hand. Both activities build trust, and bond. It's important that Fig feel like we are eating "together", and that I am helping her find food, otherwise she quickly picks up that I am manipulating her for my own affection needs. When I give her food in a cup, I usually offer to help her down to the cup from her perch, and she always graciously accepts a lift down, because I don't steal a kiss or a pet. If I did, she'd opt out. Crows require a lot of respect compared to more affection hungry parrots in my experience. It's not that they are not, cannot be affectionate, it's more that affection has its own time blocks, and they are totally separate from the eating time block. Totally. However, by making eating time, feeding time, affection, bond, trust, connection can magically enter into the scenario.

Compare these:
Mealworms in a cup. Crow jumps down to eat on its own.
Mealworms in a cup. You help the Crow jump down gently.
Mealworms in a cup. Crow comes to perch on you while eating from the cup you are holding.
Mealworms one by one. Crow comes once, and leaves with one worm in beak. Eats on perch. Repeat.
Mealworms tossed as a catch game.
Mealworms handed on a flat hand.

Looking at these, the first is cold, and no benefit, the bird eats like this when you are not there.
The second is good because it builds trust, respect, and food association.
All the others are less than good because they employ control, or intrusion. There is a better way.

I recommend using a bowl or deep plate with oatmeal or bran in it. Hide mealworms in the cereal. Stand near the Crow, with one arm conveniently up horizontal. Pick through the cereal, looking for the worms. Let the Crow come near the bowl or plate and allow it to naturally forage with you. Stand a bit further back, and let the bird decide if it will perch on you to forage in the dish. The dynamic in this scenario is the best for teaching true trust, and food/handler association. Foraging together forms a genuine bond, and teamwork dynamic, employing an activity which is completely natural to the bird. For the human, feeding an animal in this way is like being at the dinner table with family. Everyone is eating, but the togetherness, and conversation are as memorable as the food. Animals need togetherness, and conversation over their meals too.

Like Father Like Son

My son, who is now eight years old, gradually takes more interest in Fig. He loves having his evening shower with her, talking to her, tossing her food, watching her vigorously shaking out her feathers noisily before a preen. But lately he asks to come out at exercise time because he wants her to perch on his arm. He has managed to pick her up with his forearm from mine, or from the ground, but he is too scared of Figgy's nibbles to offer her his soft, tender little hand, which still has the quality of a chubby marshmallow. So I suspect it will be another year or two yet before I manage to turn him into a calm, assertive bird whisperer. It is fun teaching him consistency, and expressive meaningful, easily understood gestures and eye contact with Fig. Speaking of Fig, she has a natural affinity for children, and no fear of them whatever, as long as she is outside. She has my son's number though. If he does something unsatisfactorily, she very confidently balks. Anyway, I am thrilled he wants to have a go at handling. I think perhaps I will teach him to play on Fig's balcony first, then get a couple of chairs or small tables for outside. Fig loves jumping perch to perch on her balcony using a human as her stepping stone. I have yet to try this play outside however as I need to manage the tether safely, but now that my son has volunteered, I think the two of them could have endless fun, Fig jumping between tables with my son providing various bridges for her. Exercise, and play are vital to bonding. I could never give my son or Figgy enough. 

I'm Family! ?

I took Fig out to the park yesterday on her tethers.  She hates them recently, anew. Perhaps because I replaced all the parts, so she thinks she has a new chance to play Houdini. The minute I bring them out, and she sees them, she starts dodging about, though not really in earnest. I mean, she still comes to me, of her choice, and submits to having them attached to her legs. If she didn't come, I wouldn't take her out, and I think she knows this very well. Though she plays with the tethers no end to drive me insane.  The best I can tell, she is very excited to be going out, but not so thrilled to be leashed. And while she hates those tethers, she loves tugging on them, holding them, and attacking them like a dog at a rope.  I think she cannot contain her excitement so it all pours out at those poor restraints. I think the hate is real, but she also has a level of inntelligent understanding about why she needs them. If she really detested them utterly, she is quite capable of chewing them off in a matter of minutes; I know this because I have made her umpteen toys from identical materials which she totally shreds to tatters, but she never does her restraints the least bit of damage, and they last the whole year in good shape. Recently, she  hates me for putting them on her too, apparently. I'll explain soon.

Usually, when we first go out, she is very flighty and excited, so I control her very well, to prevent injury at first. Then, I immediately let her perch on her own for thirty minutes. This is a usual adjustment period to the outdoor environment which is exciting, very scary for her, dangerous and represents a chance to have a bit of freedom, which I used to allow her to enjoy, though no longer, sadly, and certainly not in nesting season when other Crows are fiercely territorial.  She needs a minimum of 15 minutes to relax, and refocus on handling. Trying to handle her without a proper adjustment break is a big injury risk; she is just too flighty, excited, rascally, playful, and rambunctious/naughty. A year ago she sprained a toe horsing around on her own, leaping about on rocks. Yes, she is naughty, just like a hyperactive child. So. I must give her time alone, to reflect, and rediscover me. After she fluffs, sustains eye contact, or lowers her head to invite affection, I start to trust her a bit. When I do start handling her again, I always let her choose to come to me or not, and I'm glad she almost always decides to come, then, having perched on my hand, I'll permit her to choose the game. She is quite capable of indicating what's fun, or boring. Sometimes she just wants cuddles and kisses. The thing I try at all costs to avoid is to let her do something to mock me. Crows are hard wired to mock authority. She does this deliverately by disobeying a suggestion. When she does this I ignore it; it is just too much fun for her to misbehave, so if she is going to, I'll simply allow it, and pretend it didn't bother me. I try hard to make my authority as unapparent as feasible, but there is a certain amount of assertive leadership required at times to rein in her relentless playfulness.

Anyway, yesterday, for the first time ever, Fig did not announce herself when family flew over. She looked up, heard their calls, and ignored them. It was a clear slight to them. Her face said it all with a fleeting, non challance.  I don't care about you guys any more.  Could she be angry about their attack on her last Spring nesting season? Is she actually aware of the time of year? She listens to her family every day, so certainly she hears what they are up to, building nests, or what not. A few members of her family perched on buildings, and watched us silently for an hour at sundown. As I played with Fig, tossing her, letting her leap across my knee, or the various exercises we do, something odd was going on. Every time I went to pick her up, she chose to jump to my hand, but before doing so, she cawed once at me, loudly, and deliberately, with eye contact. And the caw she cawed was, "stranger!". She has not directed this call at me before, and she kept saying it with each retrieval. Yet, she was affectionate, and fairly well behaved. The best I can guess, is that she was saying, I hate you, much the same way that a child might say those words to a parent, while tagging along behind on the way to the car. So, while the words stung, and resonated it was also not lost on me that Fig was telling me, in no uncertain terms, that she considers me her real family now. At least, I'm the one she talks to.

Update: Took Fig out again yesterday afternoon just to check if things were as they seemed over the weekend. Again, when her family flew overhead, returning to roost for the evening, she just glanced at them, did not call, or answer calls, and returned her attention to me, and handling. She was quite chattery up close too, uncharacteristically so; usually that is something she does in the house, or in her enclosure during play, a meal, or a bath, in more familiar and intimate settings. She only Ha-ed at me once half heartedly before opting for chattering, and soft mimicking. Obviously, our bond has strengthened.

These are fruits of my labor I will gladly receive because I work very hard caring for this delicate disabled bird every day. A bit of confidence in our relationship, and my standing in it is a welcome addition to my usual heart full of worries, and doubts. Am I beginning to foresee a day when Fig and I are interacting on more equal terms, able to focus as a team on play, and interaction? I hope.

Update: I'm thinking the Ha! I'm getting is different than the Ha! issued to strangers now. My slow ear is picking up a difference. The stranger word goes up in stress slightly, and is called out, with a downward tail pump. The call I get is straight, or slightly down, and flat, not energetic. Very subtle difference.