Fig's Mom and Dad have recently lost a bit of interest in me. They have stopped showing up when I am off to work, or coming home. It is a good thing because it was only a matter of time before I crashed my bicycle with my head in the air. And they no longer show as much vocal interest when I am out with Fig at the park. They do circle over, and call, just not as excitedly. Fig's Dad, surprisingly, is the real interested party lately. It was for so long the mother that was the excited one, only dragging the Dad along for the show. It still absolutely astounds me the level of recognition, interest, support, and gentle love this pair still have for their daughter, two years after having lost her on her day of fledging from the nest. I mean, they know her, they think about her, they watch over her, they check on her, they are there for her, chatting, and visiting, and staying around, though they have all but utterly lost her to her injury. It is nothing short of moving, and very sweet to witness.
I usually pay attention to Fig's face when we are out, and when she cocks her head, and trains an eye, it is highly likely that I will look off in that direction and easily spot Fig's Mom and Dad sitting atop a building together, keeping a quiet, but watchful, and obviously devoted, caring and concerned eye over and on their adored, and darling daughter from afar. At the park the other day, Fig spotted her Dad off in the distance a quarter mile away silently observing her, and she dashed to the fence to chat with him, but he had gone. She was pretty upset about that. She even flew out of the park perimeter a ways in dismay over his seemingly cold shoulder. I had to console her. I don't think he meant to shun her, I think he had just checked on her, and felt satisfied she was safe, seeing we were together as usual. She very obviously still feels the need for her parent's love and support, however, so I try to get her out to chat with them to satisfy that very important need. She is very much not an adult bird just yet.
Recently I wonder about the pet Raven trade. Here are exotic birds from Africa, and other places, which are sold as babies, not yet fully fledged and reared by their parents. They've not had a chance to fully pick up nuances of their language from Mom and Pop, or siblings. They're in the middle of a tender developmental process, when suddenly the record scratches to a halt, gears switch, they are yanked from their nest, and flown off in a plane, then hello human being, you are now my mother, my father, and my siblings, though I have never seen you before. That must be a very shocking adjustment for the youngsters to make.
I've never met a true "pet" Raven as described above, but I wonder what sort of creature they must become and if they end up okay. I imagine they may become happy, and adjust to their lives with humans. And I suppose that they can be healthy to a degree, if given the opportunity to fly. But I also imagine that they must be psychologically affected by these life changing, shattering? events. I'll stop short of saying that I think they must wind up psychologically damaged, because I know they can adapt into the human world quite well, but they absolutely must end up to some degree with a lingering sense of a great unknown constantly tugging at their hearts and minds. I think of young human children who have lost their parents to war, an accident, or desease, and I can only imagine that the "pet" Raven must suffer a similar, lifelong sense of loss, wonder, and confusion which can never be completely erased, or satisfied.
Fig has very luckily been able to maintain visual, and auditory contact with her parents and siblings as she lives in her parents' homestead. She picks up and uses the local, seasonal calls of her family. She uses English to talk with me at home, but once we get outside, she uses exclusively Crow. So, to a degree, she is like the pet Ravens I worry about. She has had to adapt to a human family, but her adjustment is even more jarring, perhaps, than a pet Raven, because she was fully reared, and fledged by her parents, thus bonded with them, and her many siblings too. So, I worry very deeply over her long term happiness, and well being. Whatever will happen if, when we move? What if we go somewhere where there are no Japanese Crows for her to talk with, or listen to. Will she simply happily adjust more in the direction of human lifestyle? I think she will. I think she can. But our encounters with her parents make me realize more and more that her use, and experience with Crow language, and socializing with Crows, and listening to them and their daily activities, is something I cannot afford to suddenly and completely erase from her daily experience without expecting some serious, unexpectable consequences, and effects to Fig. I suspect she might get depressed, and anxious finding herself suddenly in a new environment without any Crow activity around her at all to listen to, watch, and participate in to the small degree that she can.
All indications are very good, now. She is definitely a happy person. She is definitely well, of body and mind. As a parent, I worry too much. That's my job. I suspect, in another year or two, Fig will have become very fully an adult. I suspect that our bond will have matured, and become established. And I am making efforts to more fully transition her into more indoor family life, in the human world; this seems to be the direction she wants to go, as she wants to be in the house, together, and shows tremendous relief, excitement, and joy upon arriving home from walks. And this is understandable, as wild Crows are not always the most cordial sort, even if they are your family. Humans on the other hand almost always have something soft to say to a bird, or some tasty food on offer. I worry about pet Ravens, but perhaps they are okay. They are too young to remember their ordeal, their loss. Probably, they learn to communicate with and bond more fully with their human partners than a rehab bird. Fig, though, I must remember, is a wild Crow, and she has parents, and siblings, an upbringing, and deep, very serious emotions tied to those bonds, connections, experiences and memories. It is far too late to rip her completely from her life, to be suddenly, only, exclusively a pet.
And I wonder, if one took a pet Raven to meet some wild ones, could it transition back to the wild, and if so, what behavior, attitude, manner, outlook, language, affection, habit, what aspect of human kind, for there are many good ones that come immediately to mind, as well as some bad, would that Raven possibly import to Raven culture?
I also wonder, how many would be "pet" Raven buyers out there, might consider instead, to become a caregiver for injured wildlife. I suspect, though the experience will no doubt prove much more challenging, and require a good measure more patience, that ultimately it would prove far more rewarding than purchasing a "companion bird" because not only will you be helping an injured animal to live, that animal will be teaching you (as oposed to you teaching it) many unique, and invaluable things, and bringing you, indeed all of us closer to understanding an as yet, and ever more, mysterious natural world, we find ourselves estranged from, unable to participate in, and sadly losing, almost imperceptively, incrementally day by day. Yet, we innately strive to have that connection with nature. We have a sense for an unknown unknown, as if we ourselves were torn from our parental nest in the distant past. So, why not take an adventure, on the wild side instead?
I usually pay attention to Fig's face when we are out, and when she cocks her head, and trains an eye, it is highly likely that I will look off in that direction and easily spot Fig's Mom and Dad sitting atop a building together, keeping a quiet, but watchful, and obviously devoted, caring and concerned eye over and on their adored, and darling daughter from afar. At the park the other day, Fig spotted her Dad off in the distance a quarter mile away silently observing her, and she dashed to the fence to chat with him, but he had gone. She was pretty upset about that. She even flew out of the park perimeter a ways in dismay over his seemingly cold shoulder. I had to console her. I don't think he meant to shun her, I think he had just checked on her, and felt satisfied she was safe, seeing we were together as usual. She very obviously still feels the need for her parent's love and support, however, so I try to get her out to chat with them to satisfy that very important need. She is very much not an adult bird just yet.
Recently I wonder about the pet Raven trade. Here are exotic birds from Africa, and other places, which are sold as babies, not yet fully fledged and reared by their parents. They've not had a chance to fully pick up nuances of their language from Mom and Pop, or siblings. They're in the middle of a tender developmental process, when suddenly the record scratches to a halt, gears switch, they are yanked from their nest, and flown off in a plane, then hello human being, you are now my mother, my father, and my siblings, though I have never seen you before. That must be a very shocking adjustment for the youngsters to make.
I've never met a true "pet" Raven as described above, but I wonder what sort of creature they must become and if they end up okay. I imagine they may become happy, and adjust to their lives with humans. And I suppose that they can be healthy to a degree, if given the opportunity to fly. But I also imagine that they must be psychologically affected by these life changing, shattering? events. I'll stop short of saying that I think they must wind up psychologically damaged, because I know they can adapt into the human world quite well, but they absolutely must end up to some degree with a lingering sense of a great unknown constantly tugging at their hearts and minds. I think of young human children who have lost their parents to war, an accident, or desease, and I can only imagine that the "pet" Raven must suffer a similar, lifelong sense of loss, wonder, and confusion which can never be completely erased, or satisfied.
Fig has very luckily been able to maintain visual, and auditory contact with her parents and siblings as she lives in her parents' homestead. She picks up and uses the local, seasonal calls of her family. She uses English to talk with me at home, but once we get outside, she uses exclusively Crow. So, to a degree, she is like the pet Ravens I worry about. She has had to adapt to a human family, but her adjustment is even more jarring, perhaps, than a pet Raven, because she was fully reared, and fledged by her parents, thus bonded with them, and her many siblings too. So, I worry very deeply over her long term happiness, and well being. Whatever will happen if, when we move? What if we go somewhere where there are no Japanese Crows for her to talk with, or listen to. Will she simply happily adjust more in the direction of human lifestyle? I think she will. I think she can. But our encounters with her parents make me realize more and more that her use, and experience with Crow language, and socializing with Crows, and listening to them and their daily activities, is something I cannot afford to suddenly and completely erase from her daily experience without expecting some serious, unexpectable consequences, and effects to Fig. I suspect she might get depressed, and anxious finding herself suddenly in a new environment without any Crow activity around her at all to listen to, watch, and participate in to the small degree that she can.
All indications are very good, now. She is definitely a happy person. She is definitely well, of body and mind. As a parent, I worry too much. That's my job. I suspect, in another year or two, Fig will have become very fully an adult. I suspect that our bond will have matured, and become established. And I am making efforts to more fully transition her into more indoor family life, in the human world; this seems to be the direction she wants to go, as she wants to be in the house, together, and shows tremendous relief, excitement, and joy upon arriving home from walks. And this is understandable, as wild Crows are not always the most cordial sort, even if they are your family. Humans on the other hand almost always have something soft to say to a bird, or some tasty food on offer. I worry about pet Ravens, but perhaps they are okay. They are too young to remember their ordeal, their loss. Probably, they learn to communicate with and bond more fully with their human partners than a rehab bird. Fig, though, I must remember, is a wild Crow, and she has parents, and siblings, an upbringing, and deep, very serious emotions tied to those bonds, connections, experiences and memories. It is far too late to rip her completely from her life, to be suddenly, only, exclusively a pet.
And I wonder, if one took a pet Raven to meet some wild ones, could it transition back to the wild, and if so, what behavior, attitude, manner, outlook, language, affection, habit, what aspect of human kind, for there are many good ones that come immediately to mind, as well as some bad, would that Raven possibly import to Raven culture?
I also wonder, how many would be "pet" Raven buyers out there, might consider instead, to become a caregiver for injured wildlife. I suspect, though the experience will no doubt prove much more challenging, and require a good measure more patience, that ultimately it would prove far more rewarding than purchasing a "companion bird" because not only will you be helping an injured animal to live, that animal will be teaching you (as oposed to you teaching it) many unique, and invaluable things, and bringing you, indeed all of us closer to understanding an as yet, and ever more, mysterious natural world, we find ourselves estranged from, unable to participate in, and sadly losing, almost imperceptively, incrementally day by day. Yet, we innately strive to have that connection with nature. We have a sense for an unknown unknown, as if we ourselves were torn from our parental nest in the distant past. So, why not take an adventure, on the wild side instead?
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