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.
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.
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