Monday, March 21, 2016

A Few Small Things

A couple little things I don't want to forget... 

Flossing with Fig is a challenge. She is after that floss like nobody's business, tugging away. I am sure to get cavities. 

Fig will now stay on my shoulder if I sit on the floor with the cat in the room. Previously, that was a no can do. She only just has accepted sitting with me on a chair when the cat is out and about. She really places a lot of trust in me now, and she "hears" me well when I offer assurances. Not, however, spending much time out when kitty is about as prolonged tension is not good for Fig, and Lucky is insanely jealous of the birdie. Incrementally bringing these two together though. They already have shared play time, but not on Lucky's turf. 

When we are at the mirror in mating season Fig loves to "fight" with her reflection. She loves this. She really wants mirror time. Sometimes when we're at the mirror she'll bite my finger or prod my face to say, You have a go! Defense!!!! Defense!!!! Then she invites her reflection to a friendly chat, fickle bird. 

Also, when I talk to Fig in the mirror, she gives me direct eye contact, in the mirror. Previously, she'd look at my real face. Generally, eye contact is something that has been there all along since the very beginning, but recently it is intense, pronounced, prolonged, and often suspended, and now it is so in the mirror too. Fig can gaze very deeply and intently into my eyes curiously, attentively, and affectionately, and usually it is abundantly clear which is which. 

The other day in the shower, Fig came down so I could wash her face while perched on my knee, as usual. But, she spotted a bit of food in her bowl which I had forgotten to remove. I took it away mid-nibble thinking I may have splashed some shampoo in it. Fig didn't growl angrily as I expected her to do. Instead, she stared at where the bowl no longer was, hoped around to face me, jumped back on my knee, then, looking right into my eyes intently, cawed a loud growl. Then she turned, poked her face upward, and closed her eyes, "You may wash my face now." This was a clear example of talking in the past tense, then switching to future tense. Fun stuff.

Fig has been tearing up her favorite perch cover. I placed soft thick neoprene under the other perch cover to give her a bit of a trampoline bounce effect. Well, she decided she wanted an upgrade on both perches. Never ending upkeep! (Update: neoprene added beneath second perch cover...Fig is very happy with the three dollar upgrade, and has ceased tearing off the cover even though it has a few holes which beg to be enlarged. One simply must listen when a bird is "saying" something via lashing out. It means they're irritated, and displeased.)

Fig continues to expand and cultivate her musical tastes. She enjoys music a lot. There should be some interesting posts on this topic coming up.  Man I wish I had an iPhone that Fig could actually use to choose songs, and play games. Going to look into this.

Progress Report on Affection, Bonding, and Communication

The first two years with Fig, I continuously used touch as a means to communicate.

Specifically, touch was the way I permitted her to express her stress level to me. I cannot recall how the technique came about now, but I remember that Fig was extremely high strung, the slightest surprise startling her into a sudden quick duck, or leap. I believe the correct word for this may be flighty. Just a flash of light, an electronic sound, someone walking past could startle her hazardously. 

At some point I guess I realized that allowing her to peck my finger intentionally was a good method of stress release for her. It also allowed me, by the strength, or softness of her peck, to gauge her level of stress. Depending on if she grumbled, growled or a whole host of other things, one could really get a significantly accurate read on her mood, or opinion. I gave this finger pecking the name, "kiss kiss" which was also what Fig knew to mean that I would gently hold her beak and give her a kiss on the head. She seemed to quickly understand that "kiss kiss" hand up meant I would kiss her, and "kiss kiss" hooked finger offered meant she could "bite" me. She knew to watch the gesture whenever I said, "kiss kiss" to know if she should expect a kiss from me, or a chance to give feedback to me. Also, I was hoping that the association of my affection offering, "kiss kiss" to her would gradually work around to her peck feedback becoming more affectionate to me; it has. 

I think the first year, I could generally manage to kiss her on the head, while gently cradling her head, for about ten seconds, if lucky. Then she lost trust and felt she was being stifled, and she'd abandon ship. I think mostly that while being cradled, she'd start to worry about predators, more than me. She just needs to have a look around. And when she was asked to "kiss" my crooked finger, she intuitively understood that it was an opportunity to communicate her stress level, opinion or offer immediate feedback to me: I liked that, I didn't like that, I'm stressed now, I'm cool, no worries. One very interesting thing about communicating with a Crow in this way is that it's very easy to get feedback about past, present, and future (I'll write more about this another time.)

In the second year, Fig's feedback pecks to my finger gradually toned down more, and more. They were mostly soft, though still indicating some level of anxiety in her sometimes. Generally, affection manifested, but the method remained a crucial stress release, and feedback technique.

In the third year, instead of pecking she would very gently and tenderly, offer a soft delicate touch most of the time. This is also how Fig would say "No thank you" when offered water from a bowl in hand, or "That's enough thank you." With a very tender, soft, brief "embrace" of a finger tip with just the very tip of her beak. 

Now, about to start her fourth year alive, she is almost three years old, the kiss on the finger is something she no longer feels a need to do constantly. I only offer her the chance to do so sometimes, after I suspect she may be upset. Or if I have doubt about her feeling on a matter. It has become largely redundant. 

If I offer Fig a chance to give stress feedback by pecking my finger now, without clear cause or reason, she usually declines, vocally and facially communicating instead. She literally shakes her head, no, don't sweat it, I'm fine, it's cool, using her voice, eyes, feathers, and body language very effectively.

At some point in her third year, Fig started allowing me to hug and kiss her for, forever. I can now hold her head, press my cheek to hers, or any part of my face just about anywhere and cuddle her warmly and tenderly for long extended embraces. If she startles or withdraws, it is undoubtedly due to some third party stimulus. Fig initiates at least half of our affectionate interactions. She is remarkably affectionate, and sweet. She steps in close on my shoulder, or on her perch, lowers her head, arching her neck, and turns her head to put the top of her head against me. Usually she says, Love you love you love you several times in a row, and grumbles and chatters, gargles, and mimics too. Sometimes she holds my finger in her beak, preens my hair, or clothing. It's all disgustingly too romantic to describe in full, though again, the main goal is her confidence, well being and safety. My intentions are purely to protect Fig who is especially vulnerable to further injury by teaching her to be calm and assured. I watch the dominant territorial female Crows in the forest, and the happy ones are so calm, so placidly relaxed, they look much of the time as though they could collapse from boredom, and that's the goal for Fig. Excitement, and play have their time and place, but my goal is a level surface for her sea of anxieties as her default setting. 

Taming Fig is necessary for her own well being, happiness, and safety. And while I have described a mainly calm, cheerful, safe bird, there remains much longterm work still to do. She can still get anxious. She can still get worried, sad, upset. She can still startle, and be injured. I suspect this will always be so, just diminishing over time.

My goals are to continue diminishing these dangers, to build our bond, develop better communication, and see where that leads. Life, love and intellect are deep, intriguing mysteries well worth exploring to the fullest. It is a challenge of patience, dedication and perseverance. It is difficult, but in every respect, raising a Crow is indeed a rewarding, if unusual parenthood. 



Tuesday, March 15, 2016

March Nesting Update

Life with Fig is so varied and interesting. Today I came home, brought her in, and she sits quietly. Yesterday, same routine, but she vocally begged and begged not to be left alone for a minute all afternoon, and late into the evening. Even food would not appease her. I suspect she may be in heat, or ovulating, whatever the correct term for that is in birdie lingo. Anyway, yesterday was not the first time Fig demanded attention none stop from me, it was however the first time in three years that she repeatedly, persistently demanded attention vocally. Usually she yanks at her perch cover aggressively when she wants attention. Food, water, a bath, okay, she'll be vocal, but for attention, it's usually more subtle, or less depending on how you look at a tantrum. Anyway, I am glad to see she is calmer today...so far. We'll see.

Right now is nest building, and egg laying time, so males are marauding aggressively defending the females who enjoy quiet time on the ground, or perched, left alone to relax. It's quite amazing, Crow maternity leave. They are a very supportive bunch. I watch a family that lives in a small wood, and the family around my place which lives in apartment-ville. The dominant forest mothers spend their time feasting on nuts on the ground which are left alone by the males. They stand on the cool forest floor perched on fallen tree limbs hammering away at hard nuts, and looking for insects in the leaves, and dead wood. I really don't know how the city birds survive. It seems as though the dominant females spend their maternity resting perched high up, and I suspect their small support group brings them food, though I have only witnessed this a few times. In any case, the city birds, and the forest birds live quite different lives indeed. Fig's life is yet more different, but she has happily adapted just like the city birds of which she is an offspring.

Unfortunately, the males around are vocally, gesturally, posturally, and physically threatening around this time, sometimes visiting Fig's balcony to make sure she knows her place. I filled in her open rooftop for spring to make her feel more secure. Fig hears a lot of this territorial grandstanding, and it freaks her out to a fair degree. On a bad day she won't even want to go out to her balcony for exercise, though I make sure she gets her fill of much needed daily jumping about. It is all a bit frustrating as I pride myself on keeping Fig very clean and pretty, and the stress of the aggressors on patrol for the month of egg incubation has made her pull feathers from the usual place on her leg which looks awful and takes forever to fill back in, especially since she only just molted. It is only a tiny bare spot on the one leg, still it rather makes me mad.  I suppose I should be happy that it is so easy to see exactly when Fig is feeling stress about something. 

Fig too is somewhat more aggressive this nesting season due to sexual frustration, and girlie biological goings on. She argues with me about just about everything which is rather fun and enjoyable in a way because I am honing my sweet talking skills something fierce. When she gives in to my pleading or reasoning she is so cute. She really understands that I mean her utterly no harm, and she can go from growling at me adamantly one second to instantly relenting and jumping on my hand or shoulder. I never push her. You cannot push a Crow, it only hardens their resolve to resist. But you certainly can sweet talk them. They are very sensible if you are consistently gentle to a fault. Fig will literally growl ferociously in my face, then lower her head and press the top of her head against me affectionately, as long as I don't demand, press, push or boss, none of those things are any use with a Crow, you must above all else respect their dignity, and be utterly sweet or they will hate your guts deservedly.

Anyway, I play with her more, and take her out more to make up for the nasty local Crow nationalism. Recently Fig has not only gotten very good at our little game of find the Q-tip, but she knows what time we are going to play it, and she let's me know when that time has arrived, to the minute by flying out of her usual perching place, and gently pecking at the Q-tip container. Again, not a vocal, but a more physically noisy communication when she really wants something. We usually play for a dozen mealworms. She gets on my shoulder and runs across to the other shoulder, going behind my head. In the time she is crossing, I quickly hide the Q-tip somewhere. She knows she has to get across quick if she wants a visual glimpse at where I have hidden it and she dashes as fast as she can to sneak that peek. Then she zips down to find it and waits for her mealworm reward. She will jump a few centimeters to snag it from a high location which is quite a trick on a slippery surface. Before she'd get a tissue to stand on which seemed a fantastic use of tools to me. Kind a too bad that she's decided to jump now instead. She still will not take the Q-tip from a drawer, even if open all the way with the Q-tip clearly fully in view. Drawers are the devil. In fact the other day, I decided to try the drawer midway through our usual game, and she not only balked at going down to even have a look, she balked at continuing the rest of the game. I had to give her the rest of the worms. Crows are just utterly freaked about things that move, give off light, make noise, or who knows what. Nothing to be done. My fault.

And here's a silly tidbit. We were playing the Q-tip game the other day. Fig knows she gets a mealworm for finding the Q-tip. But suddenly she decided that it wasn't finding it, but simply pecking it that got her rewarded. At least the idea that this might be so occurred to her. So midgame the other day she finds the Q-tip, and I reward her. Then I reach for the Q-tip, and she quickly snags it, and tucks it under her foot.  She looks right at me, and pecks the Q-tip. I reach for it to retrieve it, and she hunkers down and growls at me ferociously. I pecked it!!!! Where's my damn worm? She is not really being aggressive. I gave her a worm, and told her to get on my shoulder which she did with a bit of under her breath grumbling. I gave her a hug and a worm. You know, she understands exactly what transpired. She was not breaking the rules of our game, she was testing them to clarify what the rule actually was. It's damn clever. I've not had any trouble since, she just actually wasn't sure. Now she's jumping up and down without objecting in the slightest. Things like this happen all the time, and it just floors me.

Anyway, we'll be in for a month or two of utter silence as the wild Crows incubate their clutches, then raise their young in utter secrecy. That will be a nice break from the territorial parading.