Molt & Molt &

If Fig did not have an injured wing, I never would have known that the feathers molt in some sort of a linear order, like a choir filing off the bleachers, as can be seen here. The good wing looks exactly the same, but you can't tell unless she stretches it out. (Molt started in February, and will end hmm???)

Soon, Fig's pretty face will look like a porcupine for a few weeks while new feathers come poking through, pushing out the old ones like baby teeth, and she'll want her face washed constantly to stay comfortable. I just hope her injured wing can successfully change feathers without getting any ingrown feathers on the underside by her destroyed elbow joint; an ingrown feather was the initial problem she had in the nest that caused her to end up with me a year ago, with a massive infection, and a broken wing. I had better keep a close eye on Fig's preening and watch to see if she develops persistent irritation in her trouble area.

Anyway, she is filling out nicely, putting on weight, getting fluffier and fluffier. I have added additional carrots, sweet potatoes, and oily fish to her diet to help her new feathers come in super pretty, and shiny. I cannot wait to see her purple and green hues in the sunset.

Shoosh Now.

When you raise a child, you delight in everything that child does, from their first smile, to the first time they tie a necktie.

When you raise a Crow, it is much the same. When they start to talk, your eyes light up with awe, and amazement. Except, with the Crow, “those words” echo in the back of your head. She's just mimicking. I have read those words in various articles over the years, maybe dozens of times. I look at my child on his way to school, and at all the busy body people, dressed up, on their way to work each day, and the words echo again in my silly skeptical head. They are just mimicking. We are just mimicking. Cue the Psycho shower scene music. I know better.  

There is no doubt, humans are a well trained animal. We find our happiness between the whip lashes, and build ourselves within the fences. Sometimes it feels like our identities, lack true context; we are so damn fake, sometimes. The most amazing thing of all is that, somehow, we manage to train ourselves, and we do this very well, even managing to convince ourselves in the end that we are not merely clever mimics, which much of the time, we actually are; let’s be honest.

While the Crow is a very clever mimic too, to be sure, I see more clearly day to day, that two things are going on. Fig is just young. She is learning to speak like any child does. She is practicing using her voice. Secondly, she is contextualizing. She is not merely a dumb mimic. I only hope I can give her life sufficient context over time to provide adequate framework for her personality to blossom to its potential.

The scariest futuristic sci-fi movies depict the human race enslaved and controlled, but that is nothing; a truly frightening scenario is when we allow ourselves to become a fundamental cog of an insidious social conspiracy, in which every single one of us is an agent, a spy, a traitor to family and friends, at the drop of a hat. We all slowly nag each other to death, and no one, no one, escapes. It is enough to drive one mad.

Sometimes I read stories claiming Crows murdered a Crow. I find the idea impossible to believe though, because I have never seen any behavior even close to matching such reports of group aggression. What is very interesting, to say the least, however, is that this particular story is the one that really, totally captivates our gullible human imagination. 

Perpetuating myths, and lies about other species causes untold, undeserved, long-term harm to countless innocent lives. Spreading such fables is the lowest we ignorant humans can stoop. We do it out of self-conscious insecurity about our own sinister possibilities. It is deflection, but it is more vicious than that. There is no excuse for doing it.  

There is no evil in the Crow.

The Difference Between Humans and Crows

I have been caring for Fig coming up on a year now, so I feel somewhat qualified to state what I feel makes us Croman, or Humrow so here it is. Fig is a child still, so I am comparing her to human children:

Scenario:  Two kids are playing. One child gets hurt during play. It may be a direct result of the activity, but only an indirect result of the second kid's actions. The second kid certainly had no intention of causing the other kid any pain.

Human Outcome: The hurt child blames the other kid, even though they really didn't do anything. Usually after parents intervene, it is explained that the injury was not caused intentionally, apologies are issued non-the-less just to repair any emotional bruises and express good faith, some sympathy is encouraged, hugs, kisses, and all is forgotten. The next morning  the whole thing is erased from everyone's memories forever.

Human/Crow Outcome: The hurt or frightened Crow blames the human, even though they really didn't do anything. The human apologizes again and again, offers treats, begs for forgiveness, gives super special massages and baths, and love love time, and extra attention for days slaving away to the Crow's every whim. A week later, the Crow is still a bit pissed, and extra wary about the incident, and continues to present a slowly warming cold shoulder, keeping the human on his toes at arms/wings length, to remind the human of the fact that they screwed up, even though it was probably just a fateful slip, or miss-jump on the part of the Crow in the first place. Maybe, maybe by the end of week two, things will be back to normal, but I seriously doubt it.

So there it is. Be careful. A bird knows that an injury means they cannot survive, I guess. I'll have to think seriously about why this is the case, but I have learned my lesson, there is no way to quickly get back into the good graces of these birdies.