Update on Fig

I have not updated this blog in some time, but Fig is doing very well. She has been with us for a year and a half now, and she improves more and more. My focus has been to maintain a routine with her as her happiness depends on a regular time schedule of varied activities. Unlike a cat, or a dog, a wild crow rather quickly panics if things are suddenly off by more than a couple of hours, or you ignore them. Anxiety sets in very quickly, and it's a potential killer; it's no joke.

Fig sleeps in a sleeper box, for warmth, a feeling of safety which she cannot get as a lone bird with no flock, a good night's sleep, protection from mosquitoes, and most importantly her own safety; Fig does not like the dark, and she startles easily. If I were to let her sleep on the balcony in the dark, that might be fine, provided it was dead silent, but if anyone goes near the window, makes a slight noise in the dark, Fig's natural startle in the dark is highly augmented by her natural fear of the dark, so she could very likely fly full force into a wall and get injured or even killed trying to dash from some imagined predator. If we go out, and are not going to be back until after dark, I leave the light on for her. If I forget to do that, she will sleep out, but when we come back,  I need to enter the house silently, and turn the light on for her, so she does not startle in the dark.

Fig does not go to the bathroom inside her sleeper box, though she will if I feed her something an hour before bed, so she gets no food after 7:00, and goes to bed at 8:30pm. This is a little late, but it helps me to prevent her from getting up at an unreasonable time in the morning. She usually will wait for me to get up before she rises. She really likes snuggling in the towel or fleece blanket in her box. She will crouch down on her breast to give her feet  rest. I have even caught her wrapping the blanket around herself a few times, or hiding under it. She does not call in the morning usually, even if she rises before me, and she will wait patiently for her breakfast. If she gets hungry she may call once or twice, but she never fusses, or calls chronically like a cat. She is not persistent, or demanding; perhaps that is a family survival quality of wild Crows to prevent attracting predators to the roost. I had pigeons as a child, and they relentlessly cooed, and pecked at my bedroom's screen door early every morning, demanding that I let them in to perch and sleep inside where I had kept them for their first few months.

Fig comes in and showers with me in the morning in warmer months. She'll have a shower, then me. Then she'll sit on my knee and enjoy having her face washed for thirty minutes if I have the time. Getting her faced washed probably counts as her one most favorite thing in life next to being out in a good gale force wind, which she loves, no matter how cold.

She is very chatty in the morning, and soft, and receptive to affection. She is not a morning person in the least. She grumbles like Popeye, muttering under her breath, saying hello, and I love you repeatedly. She also growls like a Tiger which is our way of playing. Mostly though, she just wants to sit and have her five star spa facial treatment for which she will close her eyes, open her beak a bit, and drift off into relaxation heaven. All she needs is a couple slices of cucumbers over her eyes, and a mud mask. If she needs to go to the bathroom, she will wake up, hop over on her perch and do her business away from the shower area. She is likewise toilet trained outside, too. She has chosen one place on the balcony, next to the drain pipe as her toilet, the rest of the balcony remains clean. She never poops on her sleeper box if I have not put it away for the day yet, nor will she poop in her water baths. She has two 10 liter baths to use at her leisure in the hot summer, and a few bowls of water. She doesn't spill any of them.

Fig spends the workday hours alone on the balcony. My wife spends a bit of time chatting to her, or giving her treats. Mostly she keeps busy flying around, doing jumps, glides, bounds, occasional flips, and an assortment of playful crazy things. For example, she will fly up and kick the roof with both feet, or bound twice in a corner like Jackie Chan. Sometimes she crouches on the cement floor in the corner, then leaps in the air and glides onto her perch like a Ninja. Sometimes she leaps into the air and crashes down into her bath water over and over again with a big splash. She has an active imagination, and seems to be endlessly creative, and perfectly capable of entertaining herself for hours on end making up new fantasy games. She is plenty strong enough now to escape the balcony which is partially enclosed with a roof, but she stays. If I pushed her, she'd jump out into the wilds, but she seems to get that I'm telling her going off is not a great idea.

When I am on the balcony, I become the toy. She jumps on me every time I bend, squat or crouch, then off again when I stand up again. She likes to leap across the balcony using my leg or arm, or one of each. She comes and sits on my knee, or my shoulder, and fluffs herself up for a chat, or a preen, or a cuddle. If she is in the mood, and I signal her, she will walk down into my lap for a warm snuggle and a scratch. I have trained her to do this because I need to hold her to put on her detachable tethers to take her out for park visits. She comes in close, and I slip my hand under her sternum so her legs fold back, then very gingerly I rotate her onto her back to attach her tethers. She hates her tethers. She attacks them viciously, and I need to count my fingers, though she almost never bites me, not intentionally anyway. She has improved dramatically at putting on her tethers, and taking them off too. I do not think it gives her any stress to be tethered because we've done it so many times, but after I put them on, she is either temporarily angry about it, or so excited to go to the park, that she cannot contain herself, so she needs to be allowed to sit for ten minutes, tethers on, before going out, to calm back down. I thought I could train her to accept putting on tethers while standing still, but string and leather bits are her favorite toys, so she simply cannot resist tugging on them, and I am worried that if she hops aside with one tether on she could trip and fall, so the full control system works for Fig, but it is never going to be as easy as putting a leash onto a dog, unless I find a way to have much more time to work with her. Once the tethers are on her legs, I simply rotate her over back onto her feet very gingerly, then she knows I will count to three which is her cue to jump back to my knee, then off to her perch. She never flaps or panics. It's a clean operation, but it does involve trust, communication, and practice.

On walks Fig is well behaved and social. She rarely leaps from my arm without permission anymore, and permission consists of unwinding the tether rope, and letting her take off for a dash to find a perch. At the park she is like a kid. She can hardly contain excitement, like a dog. She runs all over the place, eventually visiting her favorite benches, fences, grassy spots, jungle gyms, and tree stumps. She enjoys being chased. She calls to other Crows some, but she is not obsessed with talking to them as she used to be; she just calls to announce herself. Sometimes they take an interest in her. Sometimes she'll attract a couple of interested friends. Sometimes a massive crowd of hundreds of Crows all circling and screaming at once. It depend on the season, the time of day,and the place. In fact, Fig is well enough behaved when the tether is wound now, that I have been taking her on the bicycle. If it is windy she opens her wings and crouches down and gets the sensation of flying quite satisfactorily, it seems. I keep it very slow because she would be badly injured if we were to crash. Not to mention drivers might crash at the spectacle of a huge bird with its wings spread open like an eagle on a bicycle appearing unexpectedly.

At the park Fig is not the least bit shy of anyone or anything. She will seek the close company of total, and very surprised strangers, leaping to perch right next to their heads. She will allow anyone to handle her, pet her, or come close for a chat. She even will prance through twenty screaming kids on a jungle gym if allowed. She will feed herself happily to a hungry dog, too. Only cats seem to get her a bit freaked. At home though, it is a different story. Unfamiliar people get her calling out anxiously. She won't alight on other people's arms, choosing instead to retreat to my shoulder. It is not that she is frightened, so much, rather she does not trust the quality of the person's character, you see, my son once withdrew his arm causing her to land on the ground. Now she thinks everyone is going to pull that trick on her. Fig NEVER, forgets a bad experience. On the balcony she has two main perches at either end, and a couple between. I once got creative with the central perches, and changed the support posts to fiberglass thinking it would be fun for Fig to have a softer landing, a bit of flex, a more natural tree limb like place to land. Well, the first time she landed on this new type of perch, it flexed nicely, and she jumped off, and it boinged around a bit, and she did not like the instability, and uncertainty of that one bit. That was seven months ago, and while I have changed that perch back to solid, rigid wood dowels almost immediately, and tried level hard to gently persuaded Fig to sit on it over and over again, she has since refused to alight on that perch ever again, choosing instead to fly over. I have attached trillions of snacks and toys to that perch which she does eat, and she even tears up the rope toys, and other things, but she manages to get at them from below, or from a side. She is permanently spooked of that perch. Nothing to do but remove it. Thankfully she is a bit more forgiving towards me when I have been a bit rushed, or clumsy, or rough in the past. Fig has taught me to have an incredibly gentle and patient bedside manner with her, and it has carried over to my interactions with people too. Silence is golden, especially with a Crow.  I sat with her in the living room the other day. She is not allowed in the living room. Don't tell my wife; she wasn't there. Anyway, the unfamiliar place made her very very nervous. She almost could not stand it, but on my hand she feels secure. Then I had her sit on my knee a while, one step down in security, to test our trust, and strengthen it too. She really almost could not stand that too, but she soldiered on, eventually fluffing up and relaxing on my knee, though I could tell she was humoring me. Her true feeling was that she did not like an unfamiliar place one bit. When I finally returned her to her familiar perch in the shower room, she yelled at me, a good scolding. What the hell was that? Why exactly did you take me in the living room for an hour? You know I never go in the living room! But then I hold out my arm, and she pops on and comes to me for kisses. So, she can be forgiving, and she is trusting, and while she can get angry and emotional, she is willing to forget, but these things seem to be only available to living entities, not things like perches. Another example is my iphone. Fig enjoys watching videos of Crows and other things on the iphone. It gets her very excited, but now if I want to film her, or take a picture, I can't; whatever relaxed or cute behavior I want to capture quickly transitions into a screaming fit; I want to talk to the Crows in the phone! I unintentionally conditioned her to be super excited everytime she sees the phone, and now it has become hard to document her behavior, calls, and cuteness. Alas! I suppose I'll have to find my camera.

Fig still studies colors with me, though mostly to give her a chance to express herself vocally, which is obviously important if you are a bird. I have no intention of turning her into a circus act. But puzzles have become a big part of her usual routine. One day a week, at least, Fig will do as many puzzles as she can, and other days she'll enjoy one or two. I give her a variety of challenges involving ropes, string, chains, cups, hooks, mazes, and sticks. She has learned ten puzzles, and she enjoys figuring them out, and showing off that she can complete them quickly. After each puzzle she'll call out, there see, I did it, ah ha! She has a real and deep sense of accomplishment, and like with a human child, she expresses that to me. Of course food is her motivation, so I will usually do puzzles rather seriously on a Sunday morning for breakfast, when she is naturally hungriest. The fascinating thing about working with Fig is our interpersonal communication for me. She pays close attention to everything, my face, my gestures, my tone of voice. She can be instructed by waving, pointing, or just plain vocal encouragement. She fully understands yes, right, come on, try, and no, not that, wrong. And Fig understands now that if I am directing her to something, and encouraging her curiosity and effort, that there is a reason for my doing that, most likely food, and she gets on the task with focused intent to figure out what is up, continually looking to my feedback to know if what she is doing is hot or cold, as it where. One interesting thing is if I give Fig a new, or difficult puzzle, she will dismiss it immediately, even if she can clearly see, hey, there's a big chunk of food I might get! To take action, she relies heavily, perhaps completely on me to motivate her initial interest and continued tenacity. I imagine that young wild Crows orphaned from their parents would readily starve to death without the encouragement, and motivation they likely get from parents and older siblings to explore unknown things or tricky challenges. It is one reason I think Idaho Fish and Game's planned cull of 4,000 Raven parent birds is such a cruel idea, in addition to murdering thousands of our wildlife treasures which is vile. The children of those birds, numbering more than ten or twenty thousand birds will likely slowly starve to death without the parents continued home schooling, and motivational support, just as your own youngsters would probably starve if you left them at home unattended from a young age. Motivation, determination, persistence, tenacity...these are things social animals teach, and learn. As a teacher myself, I can tell you, the words try hard, work together,  don't give up, you can do it, never give up, don't quit, are the phrases I say consistently to kids all day, everyday; I strongly suspect this is the case with Crows. Idaho, got your ears on?

In the afternoons Fig and I will go to the park, time permitting. She is more relaxed the following day if she gets out. She cannot go more than three days without a walk about under the sky. She may even be totally silent the day after an outing, like she is likely to be on a rainy day. She may be so satisfied that the following two days, she has no interest in going out again. But then she'll change her mind. I can tell if she wants to go by her reaction when I show her the tethers. If she wants to go out, she gets excited. If she doesn't she simply refuses to come put them on. She can be very naughty and a bit rebellious at the park. She wants to do her thing, but she is quite happy to sit together for an hour watching the clouds, birds, insects, and people. And I don't insist she perch on me the whole time. She almost always comes back to me without a chase, or any fuss, so that is good progress, and if danger presents, she knows I'm a safe place to go.

She comes in and enjoys an early dinner late afternoon. Dinner is lighter than breakfast. Then another quick shower to cool down, or warm up depending on the season. Then another face wash, and some short vocalizing, and maybe a puzzle or two. She absolutely needs social time to maintain her sanity. Unlike a cat or a dog, she cannot go ignored. If I ignore her, her anxiety the next day will double up. I'll come home and she'll be visibly anxious. So I stick to the routine. It only takes a little time to let her know, yes, you are loved. Yes, you have kinship. Yes, you matter. Everything is fine, normal, regular. Then she preens and relaxes, and the next day she isn't all wound up and out of sorts. If she's energetic after dinner and couldn't get to the park she goes out for an afternoon exercise session to burn off steam. Finally, she needs thirty minutes with the lights off before she will willingly hop into her sleeping box for the night. I think it is pretty amazing that she willingly jumps down to the ground, on a dark balcony, and goes into a dark box, with my reassurance. It moves me every time she does it because I know it requires incredible trust. Likewise in the mornings when I leave for work, I put her outside, but she sits on my knee by the door, and we share a few minutes when she gets quiet, and refuses to kiss my hand, or give me a stress feedback peck, or go out. She just sits there on my knee, saddly looking into my eyes, refusing for a few minutes to move. Do you have to go the work? she is asking. Can't we play just a little longer? No, I say, sorry love. Eventually, she jumps out to her perch. Turns to kiss my hand. Then dives into play, content in the fact that I will be coming home to see her in the afternoon. Then I take my other kid to school, and it's much the same. I'm a very lucky daddy.

Fig is not a pet. She is a wild animal. I try to remember that, and she often reminds me of the fact. I will continue to care for her, work on her relaxation, trust, confidence, nutrition, and happiness. I think Fig would enjoy doing education work in the future, but she has some ways to go before I can fully trust her handling in a classroom of youngsters. Plus, she will become sexually mature some time in the next year or two, and I suspect that will bring new surprises and challenges.

Anyway, that's my update for now.  

 

Japanese History, and the Jungle Crow

A long and fascinating, detailed read on Crows, mythology, religion, China, Japan, the Emperor, feudalism, modern times...only problem is the author unjustly and inaccurately portrays Jungle Crows as fearless, and aggressive, and reaching monstrous size. They will defend nests, and young on the ground rather intimidatingly, but fearless they aren't, and aggressive never, not towards humans in defense of garbage...that is serious mythology. As for the size, males can be bigger than females and juveniles, but twice the size, ridiculous imaginings spurred by fear and ignorance; if you lop off the large wings, long legs, and beak, you are left with a plumpish park pigeon of a bird. They are entirely feathers. Otherwise a great piece.

http://thejapanchronicles.blogspot.jp/2012/02/crows-in-japan-menace-or-guide-of-gods.html?m=1

Grousing about Sage Advice

So I have started to hunt for information on the plight of the Idahoan Sage Grouse, a rather large, ornate, and interesting bird.

 

Turns out one does not need to hunt hardly at all before the ugly little head of inept Idahoan leadership pops up among the Sagebrush. I simply visited the Idaho Department of Fish and Game’s website where I found Governor C.L. “Butch” Otter’s Executive Order 2012-02 Establishing The Governor’s Sage Grouse Task-Force which sounds mighty darn serious and impressive. But is it? Turns out that Butch is quite the little rascal.

 

Let’s begin with the man. Here we have an agribusiness guy, a Republican, who soaks his chewing tobacco in Jack Daniels while driving, and says he’d be first in line to shoot a Gray Wolf pending removal from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services Endangered Species List after the population was only just brought back from the brink extinction. In fact Butch the Butcher supports a measure to cull Gray Wolf numbers all the way down to 100! Humorously, he was married to a woman named Gay but opposes gay marriage. Anyway, they’re divorced now, but you get the picture, not a real intellect, or a guy who deeply empathizes with or appreciates animal life, or human life for that matter. Guess his ex-wife finally figured that out.  

 

So what about his friends on his Sage Grouse Wonder Heroes Task-Force? After weeding through endless Whereas after Whereas in the document which honestly, not being too up on English, or legalese, I mistakenly thought was an animal related to a werewolf, only a were-ass, one comes to the kind of friends Gov. likes to appoint to a Task-Force meant to advise him on how best to preserve, protect, and perpetuate an abused species in his own backyard. It reads:

 

 

The Task Force members shall be appointed from the following categories:

 

Individuals who:

 Represent agricultural interests; or

 Represent energy or mineral development interests.

 A local working group; or

 A nationally, regionally or locally recognized environmental organization; or

 Nationally or locally recognized wildlife or sportsmen’s groups.

 Hold State elected office; or

 Hold county elected office; or

 Represent the public at large.

 

Did you count the number of Ornithologists, Bird Watchers, Naturalists, Biologists, Ecologists, Conservationists, Hippies, Liberals, Nature Freaks, Vegans, and Friends of Sage Grouse on that list? Did you get zero? Me too. Basically, this list may as well simply read fucking anybody whether they give a flying hoot about nature, or Sage Grouse or not, no experience necessary. It would have saved Idahoan tax payers on ink.  

 

So, the Governor’s a drunk, a good ol’ boy, and he’s quick with a gun. How about the tone of the document itself. One last chance; keep hope alive! I have clipped out the worst bits for your convenience:

 

Duties of the Task Force:

 

to preclude the need to list the species; (Never mind saving the actual animals in question, he is worried most about having to list them as endangered which will threaten every Joe, Jack, and Jane Idaho Shotgun Ranch shoot ‘em up Sage Grouse in a Bucket business all over Idaho.  

 

i. Conserve the species and its habitat while maintaining predictable and multiple uses of private, state and public lands; (In other words, don’t kill all the birds while continuing to blast their brains out for profit!”)

 

iii. Tailor the management recommendations… to the interests of the State; (Again, screw the birds, business come first!)

 

For a Sage Grouse Task Force it sure as hell reads one heck of a lot like an Idaho Agriculture, Business and State Revenue Task Force don’t it? It do.

 

Allow me to remind you that I have started to read up on this topic because Idaho Fish and Game intends to poison 4,000 Ravens in certain specific areas, in what they are calling an “experiment” to see if doing so will boost Sage Grouse numbers.  Let’s have one last look at Butch Boy’s Executive Order and see what it says about Ravens specifically, or even what it implies:

 

The Sage Grouse Task Force will…

iv. Address the following threats to the species as identified by the (Wildlife) Service:

 

 Habitat fragmentation due to wildfire and invasive species;

 Conversion of habitat for agriculture or urbanization; and

 Energy development/infrastructure.

 Disease/West Nile virus;

 Management issues related to livestock grazing;

 Collisions with fences and power lines;

 Mining;

 Prescribed fire and range treatments;

 Water development; and

 Conifer invasion.

 

Did you read anything about massacring Ravens there in? Me neither. Well, at least it is comforting to see that the document mandates the Task-Force to:

 

vi. Identify opportunities for pro-active sage-grouse habitat enhancement projects; and

 

vii. Recognize, encourage and incentivize land use practices that are actively maintaining or improving sage-grouse habitat as evidenced by improvements in habitat quality, active lek routes or stable/increasing populations of the species.

 

Yes, indeed, that last bit there is a ray of hope. Idaho should stick to those bits. Be advised, however, that this Task-Force composed of the Governor’s dim-witted hunting buddies is in the end  solely advisory. This ensures that, should the Sage Grouse luck out and happen to find a friend among the Governor’s pals, that the Governor may simply ignore them, and their advice all together.

 

The document goes on to state that the Task Force may   request consultation, information and technical expertise from  anyone with a brain, an education, a care in the world about Sage Grouse. Phew, thank goodness for that! We would not want to limit or impede the Shoe Salesman, the 7-11 Clerk, the Boy Scout Troop Leader  (no disrespect) in their sworn duty to advise the Governor on this vitally important Sage Grouse Task-Force.

 

I think the case very likely will be that we need to open our eyes and  recognize who we are dealing with if we are to save Ravens, or Sage Grouse, or any wildlife in Idaho. The fact is, in Idaho the people in charge, at the top, look to me like wildlife’s biggest threat. If that were not the case, the Sage Grouse and the Ravens would not be in their respective predicaments today.

 

Pay a visit to Idaho Fish and Game’s website. You have real people writing in with real questions like, May I shoot a fish with a crossbow? And you have real people working at Fish and Game answering back Sure as long as it’s only a carp or a sucker.

 

Isn’t the correct answer, Why? Are you fishing? Are you clearing out invasive species? What’s your intent? What’s your thinking? Are you 10 years old? Are you shooting an animal for fun? Is there some reason you need to bother the fish going about its life? Where is your mommy?

 

People who think, people who empathize, people who care, people who are educated, people who question and seek answers, people who are dedicated specialists, people who understand that nature is first, that it is precious, that it is all there is, no second chances, people who were brought up by kind-hearted parents who taught them to respect, admire, and appreciate all living precious things are the ones we need on the Sage-Grouse Task-Force. They would make a real Task-Force, not merely an advisory façade for an easily fooled public. We the public need to listen to the experts, and the scientists, and the ornithologists because they, simply put, have something to teach us about the birds, and about being human.

 

 

So far, my look into this issue has barely scratched the surface, but things are not looking good for the Sage Grouse or the Ravens. When the Governor and a kid with the crossbow share the same depraved, immaturity and outlook, things really do not look good. Who knows, maybe I'm wrong. I'm simply calling it as I see it. Stay tuned.

Yes Please & No Thank You

Quick note on bird communication.

The word please is not really in bird vocabulary. There is a gesture to express interest where the neck is extended and one eyebrow is raised. Perhaps a step forward, or to one side on a perch is taken to add urgency or emphasis, but there really is not any equivalent to Yes, please, or Please in a bird's table manners.

There is, however, and interestingly so, a very clear No thank you in bird language. Birds say it to birds, and birds say it to their human caretakers. Fig says no thank you to the offering of water, or food, or an uninteresting, or unfamiliar toy with a very gentle double peck to my hand. Aside from affectionate cuddly pecks it may be the most gentle of her physical communications with me. It mirrors a human No no, as one might utter at the offering of more wine or tea midconversation at the dinner table. It is soft, and tender, and warm, and comes with a lot of appreciation and gracious thanks.

 

Cancel the Idaho Raven Cull

It came to my attention recently that Idaho's Department of Fish and Game is planning a Raven cull in 2015 of some 4,000 birds by "corvidocide" laced eggs. That's some pretty clever poison namin'! This is something I plan to dedicate some attention to. Obviously, I am opposed to such activity, but the article, or articles I plan to write will be written from a neutral position. Best to let facts speak for themselves.

For a State with the motto, "Let it be forever." it is confusing to say the least that Idaho would take this action against a specific, native species present in their eco-system. They are not supposed to view our wildlife as a force for evil. They are supposed to be good stewards of the land and all her wildlife; protect, preserve, perpetuate...those are their three P's folks! I got 'em right off their website.

Even more confusing is the fact that they are supposedly planning these culls in order to boost Sage Grouse numbers which have been in decline, prompting the listing of the Grouse on the threatened species list. This is confusing because, unbelievably, Fish and Game are still issuing hunting licenses for Grouse! It has not occurred to anyone in Idaho's Department of Fish and Game apparently that this makes them look rather disingenuous, and buffoonish as far as saving Grouse is concerned. Again, it is obvious that the Ravens are viewed by Fish and Game as a threatening competitor, and a pest rather than a natural asset in their environment which needs to be protected, preserved, and perpetuated along with all the other species, equally, by balancing them properly within the natural fauna. Viewing corvids as a competitor, and a force of evil in the eco-system is not the proper perspective for the State Department of Fish and Game leadership to have!

Incredibly, Idaho Fish and Game are calling the cull "an experiment" (following the lead of Japanese whalers one supposes) while scientists, experts, and even the dedicated Sage Grouse ornithologists themselves are opposed to their plan, and dismiss any claims to scientific ambitions, or effectiveness to the benefit of conservation.  Non-sensibly, Fish and Game is collecting their own data on the results of their so-called experiment when they are hardly able to be impartial, or unbiased, which means we can expect, or rather Ravens and Crows can expect year after year of unjustified, and unwarranted poisonings, and war, and shootings from these government officials run amuck once they conclude that their experiment in mass murder was a terrific success for the much yummier Sage Grouse.

So, something is seriously rotten in Idaho in a way that makes me think of those movies where someone's car breaks down in some back country town, then they slowly discover that the whole town is inhabited by creepy, incestuous, polygamous, nose-picking, cannibal zombies or something. I mean, this is the State Department of Fish and Game that is unleashing a war on a specific species which they are supposed to deeply respect, and help maintain a natural balance in the eco-system, and instead they are thinking they would sure like to have more Grouse to shoot, and Grouse hunting license revenue for their State government. It is a bad case of inbred, good ol' boy government in bed with their hillbilly, hunter brother; it is absolute corruption, and malfeasance.

Something is clearly, and obviously wrong when the hunters themselves are running their own regulatory agency. This is not the way things are supposed to be in the modern, civilized, governed and organized world of checks and balances.

So, Idaho Fish and Game is a few seashells short of a seashore, and eggshells too, but luckily, we have a year to try and explain things to them, and set their little potato salad heads straight. The mere idea of killing 4,000 Ravens, or 4,000 wild animals of any sort, without clear, and severe justification, and without the support of anyone knowledgeable, scientific, or authoritative by poisoning or any other means is just gross, unconscionable, dastardly, degenerate, brainless, heartless, reckless, mean, Cruelty and it sickens me, and any other normal person to imagine it, but what sickens me a trillion fold is my fellow human beings who concoct these vial ideas, then actually carry them out without any concept of what is right or wrong, or simply kind or nice inside their dull and dense little pea-brained heads.

We have a duty to our wildlife to find out WHO is running the circus in Idaho, have them tarred, feathered, and fired, post haste. We will prevail against the common Ignoramus. We must.

As for the lowly Sage Grouse, the $100,000 Fish and Game was planning to gamble on their sick and twisted full-of-craps table will rightly to go to proven, effective conservation efforts on their cute little feathery behalfs, this year, not next. Those funds will be taken out of Fish and Game's salaries as necessary, and the lovely folks at the Federal Department of Agriculture's Wildlife "Services" who are giving the okay to the poisoning will unselfishly match the funds from their pay checks.

As for hunting licenses for Sage Grouse, those will be cancelled indefinitely too. Instead, we will bill every single Idahoan who has purchased a Sage Grouse hunting license in the last ten years $100 retroactively to go towards Sage Grouse conservation, and habitat reclaimation, or rehabilitation until the poor little pheasants proudly reclaim their roost in the screwed up Idaho eco-system that each and every Idahoan human being is ultimately responsible for.

Finally, we will Let the Ravens be, forever!

What's Up of Late

I have been reading up on Crows and Ravens at a fever pitch, so not much time for posting these days. My parents got me two great books on the topic for my birthday, very thoughtfully. The books have been backing up a lot of what I thought I have been learning, and teaching me some new things about the birds as well. Perhaps the most interesting thing has been one author's depiction of Raven's as emotional animals. While that has certainly been something I have noted, and observed personally, I do not think I would ever have thought to use that word. It is an example of the difference between true naturalists, and the rest of us. They have more empathy, and appreciation for the animals than most; it is why we need so desperately to learn to listen to and defer to scientists, conservationist, and the lot; their eyes, and ears, and hearts are bigger; we have something very important to learn from them.

I have been taking good care of Fig. She is spending more and more time outside these days. I changed her anklets to a removeable type of my own inventing, and she is learning to have them put on, and taken off. I use a double grommeted anklet of fairly standard design. A cord passes through both eyelets. One end has two knots to create about an inch of cord to grab. The other end has a length of rubber tubing which slides up and stays in place on the cord, holding the anglet grommets closed, together, by simple friction on the cord. A second rubber tube with greater friction is further along for extra security. Putting them on requires that I bring Fig in to an embrace which we practice, and she agrees too. Removing the anklets simply requires that I slide the rubber tubing back down the cords while Fig is perched. She has gotten much better at relaxing to do this. I am very happy because she does not need to wear anklets all the time which feels a bit freer, and more natural for her, and hopefully the anklets will last a lot longer.  Progress, progress.

Fig's communication, and handling training continue. Everything has gotten a bit mixed up as I have switched almost all of her training time to outdoors on tethers now. She has very quickly learned to adapt what we previously did inside to the outside environment, but the switch has created a progress lag due to all the excitement and distraction that the outside environment brings. I am going with the flow. It will take Fig some time to learn to relax, and focus outdoors. She is making good progress, but occasionally is rascally, and disobedient. We go out at night sometimes still to continue to reinforce that I am her safety zone. During the day this principle is not as evident to her. I am not strict with her, and the focus is mainly on trust and relaxation, and working together to pay attention to the environment around us, and to build our bond. Most of our time is spent walking, sitting for a chat, or a preen, environment observing together, coming close to avoid danger or a threat such as a passing car or dog walker, handling training jumping to and from me, playing, chasing, catch, looking for stuff in the dirt, curiosity practice, all together...basically, I act like another Crow for her most of the time, which is not a bad job. I am always complaining that humans need to spend more time sitting, and looking and just paying attention to the natural environment's natural goings on, so now that is exactly what I am doing...watching the grass Crow, as they say. Walking together is a big part of our time together because Fig needs to learn that as long as we are together, things are okay, and walking is rather a bumpy ride on a person's arm for a long legged bird, so Fig needs to acclimate to the activity, plus I could use the exercise. It is fun for her to walk into the wind; she presses herself down and assumes a Falcon dive pose so she feels a bit like she is soaring along. We start and end every walk with a chat to connect, and debrief. Usually she starts time outside a bit wired up, and overly excited, and by the end she has preened, and mellowed out, and is interested in a close lovey snuggly chat.

The outside environment is dangerous, with cats, dogs, hawks, bicycles, cars, and other surprises, so we are focusing on being a team at paying attention to everything, and communicating about staying together, just like a pair of Crows would do. We even go through people's garbage, and strew it about all over the street.  I communicate with Fig with gesture, voice, head movement, eye movement, eye contact and body stance. I am trying hard to get her to understand that she and I are to be thinking, and acting as one, as a pair, in tight coordination. It is all too keep her safe. Dogs, cats, hawks, they come out of nowhere, and I am all too aware that Fig could be gone in an instant if we are not tuned in to the task at hand. We are Team Safety, just like two kids on their way to school, a pair, watching for the inevitable one crazy driver who comes along when you least expect it.

I am paying more careful attention these days to Fig's language. Little by little my ear is able to catch the nuances and minor pronunciation differences of her calls. If I had never studied a bit of Japanese, I never would have noticed the differences in her utterances at all. They would all likely sound identical to me. Most people probably agree that a Crow says Caw Caw Caw, but in fact they say aw, gwah, wah, wrah, rah/lah, ha, hfwa, awa, hya, hwah, al, ar, yao, yar, yaw, and a whole slew of things which I am only beginning to hear, and start to be able to distinguish. Fig uses her tongue, the air in her beak, and her neck, and her diaphram to create sounds which are so slightly different in such a variety of ways, I am having a very hard time hearing them, and an even harder time trying to reproduce them with my own vocal apparatus. It is going to take a lot more very serious listening to hopefully figure it all out.

Blah blah caw.

 

Color Alphabet Letter Choices

Fig is still learning the names of 13 colors, and we continue to adjust the names of the colors in search of 13 easy to say, and hear sounds for Fig.

The 13, single syllable color words were:
ah-white, ko-black, ha-brown, ka-pink, arr-silver/gray, rah-gold, no-clear, aka-red, oh-orange, ki-yellow, do-green, ao-blue, oa-purple

Changes: Fig has difficulty saying the syllable K, or kuh, and has herself suggested that AKA or RED be changed to AWA, so it has.

In fact, Crows do NOT ka, kaw, or caw; they actually aw! They say AW!

Fig will also say the sound GWAH or QUWA. Look, it's her language. It is all foreign to me, the point is, it is very hard to catch the sounds she is saying exactly because it's Crow, not my native language. Anyway, I have observed that WA and GWA are in her natural lexicon, and she naturally suggested AWA in place of AKA, so I have decide to make the additional changes of KA to GWA, KO to GO.

These changes mean that...
1. the vowels Ah, Oh, and now U (long ooh, as in ooh la la) are present.
2. the vowel I (hard E) is now out. I cannot get her to say it easily.
3. the hard vowels A,E,I,U are excluded, but hard O is in.
4. the soft vowels Egg, Igloo, Apple, Umbrella, are excluded, but Ah is in.
5. the consonants B,C,D,F,J,K,L,M,P,Q,S,T,V,X,Y,Z are out, but D,G,H,N,R, GW, W are in.

I suspect in time:
N will change to M
D will get axed too.
Double vowel sounds UA will get included, but not AU as it is too similar to AO.

The end result of this quest for a working alphabet will be:
(Changes are indicated in red.)
ah-white
go-black
ha-brown
gwa-pink
arr-silver/gray
rah-gold
awa-red
oh-orange
ua-yellow
wa-green
ao-blue
oa-purple
mo-clear

Seen another way:
ah, ar, awa/ ha, wa, gwa, ra/ ao
oh/ go, mo/ oa
ua

From this alphabet, I should be able to make lots of words such as:
ah go
ah mo
ah ra
ah ha
go ra
ha go
etc... but I will need to calculate the exact number of easily distinguishable words as I am hoping to aim for an alphabet that can make around 1000 words.

I suspect three letter words may be the ticket for good communication.
ah go ah
ah mo ah
...but this requires further thinking down the road.

I Made A Crow Cry

Now I've gone and done it; I will be in big trouble with animal lovers world-wide for sure. Thank goodness no one reads this blog except me. Anyway, here is one story that most people will react to with dismissive scepticism, like my wife, whose initial reaction when I first got out of the shower with Fig was something along the lines of, Yeah right.

Fig fell off our building a year ago. She had suffered a terrible infection in the nest which bled. When she tried to fledge, one of her wings did not open due to the fact that blood had adhered that one wing to her body. In the subsequent 12 story fall, she suffered a fractured humerus when she used her wing to break her fall to the ground. Anyway, she ended up in my care where she has been ever since. In those first few days that I had her, she would sit on my knee in the evenings, and she would "cry" for a good long time, maybe an hour or two if I remember correctly. I say cry because the noise she made sounded just like a baby's cry, though muted, as if the baby is far off in the distance. Her beak is open, her head is down, she is panting in grief, sobbing constrained breaths. You know when you are most upset, your crying can be quite quiet because you cannot breath with your chest muscles tightened up, it must be the same for a bird. It was obviously anxiety, and distress she was experiencing. I am not anthropomorphizing. Fig's crying episodes halted after a few days if I recall correctly. At the time, I decided that she must be crying for her mother, and her siblings who she longed to be with again. Thankfully, she was able to keep in touch as they live locally much of the year.

Anyway, I totally forgot all about this crying she did when she first came to me a year ago, but the other day I was reminded of it. My usual weekday routine with Fig is to spend time with her in the morning, and in the afternoon. Recently, we had a long weekend, and it was my birthday, so we spent an entire day out at a family BBQ. We left early in the morning, and came back after dark. This must have been the very first time in a year that the whole family has gone out for the entire day, ignoring poor Fig. I realize that is hard to believe, that we have not been out for a whole day in a year, but what is perhaps even harder to believe is that our having done so brought poor Fig to tears. Tears and tears, in fact, in that order.

Like a child waiting forever to be picked up at school by its absent-minded father, Fig got pretty upset that she had gotten none of her usual attention for a whole day. She tore up a perch cover to express her displeasure at having been dissed all day long. Even though I left her loads of special yummies to gobble, she obviously did not like being left alone all day. Foam bits everywhere, and a hole in the fence. When I brought her in to get her ready for her night box that evening, she was still miffed. She tore the foam ends off her indoor perch and chucked them every which way. She had never so much as touched them before.

To comfort Fig, I sat her on my knee, where she usually sits when I wash her face in the shower. But this evening she sat on my knee, and for about 30 minutes she cried, looking into my eyes intently, and I then remembered, a year ago when she had just lost her family, and cried about it. Again she sat slumped, beak open, breathing constrained sobs and high pitched, but very muted baby cries emmanating from within. Unmistakably crying.

You can say it isn't so all you wish, and I suspect most people who hear this story will, but I now know for certain that Crows cry. Fig's eyes even glazed over, though I can't say there were any tears trailing down. I just hope I can avoid making Fig cry ever again. I promise to do my very best not to. I suppose I should be proud to have made it an entire year without upsetting her but once, but as her adoptive father, it is the once that weighs on my conscience, and will. Cats and dogs are happy as heck to see you come home, and more so the later you are for sure, but something about the Fig's cry is simply heartbreakingly astounding, moving, and touching. I shall never forget it.
   

Communication B-eakthrough! Eureka! (part 1)

If you read this blog, then you know that I have been teaching Fig, gradually, but consistently (not my best attribute usually). What have I been teaching her? Specifically, 13 colors, which I have given single or double syllable names. Some of the names are Japanese, some are derived from Japanese, some are picked from Crow language, or from phonics. I may need to change some of them over time.

ah-white, ko-black, ha-brown, ka-pink, arr-silver/gray, rah-gold, no-clear, aka-red, oh-orange, ki-yellow, do-green, ao-blue, oa-purple, is that 13?  

My wife has complained several times: Why don't you just teach Fig English words for the colors. Wouldn't that be much more interesting? You were listening to a talking Crow on the internet the other day. That was cool! 

I have explained this to her several times now, but she is either not as interested in Crows as I am, or she is not so impressed with my braininess. She sarcastically called me Professor the other day, in fact. She has a great sense of humor. I am not a professor.  

Anyway here is what I am up to. If it makes any sense at all...well, I leave that up to you to decide. Suggestions, comments, and what-not are always welcome.

Why new words? Why not human language? I am after all, an English teacher.

Well, you have to go back to the beginning. When I first got Fig, on her first day of fledging, when she badly broke her already wounded and infected wing, she was already indoctrinated into the world of Crows. She spoke fluent Crow in fact. I had heard that Crows could, that's COULD learn to mimmick human language, but I had no idea if, or when Fig would be likely to do so. I was just as curious about her Crow language as I was to know if she would speak human. So, at first, of course, we (my family) mimmicked her. This was only natural.

The next step in my mind was to wonder, hmmm, are we just mimmicking, or are we really talking? Are we communicating? Let's see if she will mimmick our words. The obvious choice was, hello, right? I mean, it's useful and a bit endearing. Much to my surprise, Fig started mimmicking hello in short order, after less than two weeks. Her pronunciation was and is far from perfect, but she's keeping at it.

The next step in my mind was to seriously deeply wonder, hmmm, is communication possible, and if it is, how will I know when it really happens for sure? So I started making experiments. I would teach Fig with flashcards daily. Gradually, she is repeating more and more. She loves language time. She gets very excited. Study time for her can go for about an hour. That seems to be her limit for language study, then she wants to preen, and prepare for bed. Me too. 

Anyway, I thought a lot about how to go about communicating with a Crow, and it quickly became obvious to me from my experience with Fig, that it would be of great benefit to identify sounds which she can easily say if communication is to go both ways. I looked carefully at English and Japanese languages, and I chose names for the thirteen colors which I wanted to know IF Fig could actually utter. She is still struggling with saying some of them, so I did not do a great job. For now though, I am plugging ahead with the original color name list, in hopes that Fig will do better, while simultaneously mining vowel pairs for new phonic sounds she takes to naturally. I anticipated that Fig might never speak a word, then I anticipated that Fig might have trouble with uttering some sounds, so it is a process of discovery. What are her capabilities?

To date, Fig can say most of the colors, and she knows/understands all of them. How do I know this? I give her a selection of colors, anywhere from 2-13, and she picks out the correct color when asked to do so. Her accuracy, and or enthusiasm goes way down as the number of colors goes up, but she is only one, and she is improving daily. We don't get much practice time, but we do some study together each day at least 5-10 minutes.

So, Fig can learn abstract names for colors. Yes. But, it was only recently that I had an amazing break through with her. I started coloring opaque yogurt cups in the 13 colors. Sort of a larger version of the smaller games we were already playing. Then I put a few of them on a tray, or around her space. A snack was under one of the cups. I picked Fig up, and told her one of the colors. She went to the tray or around her space and proceeded to peck the cups randomly. At my urging she kept trying, and turned the cups over one by one, eventually discovering the snack. It took her a while to figure out that sometimes the snack was under the cup, and sometimes it was stuck up in the cup. I did both these things to help her learn to really look and examine the cup carefully. But what was this random searching she was doing?

The problem was, she was not listening to me. Unlike in the color selection game where the selection was right in front of her, this cup game was somehow different. Perhaps the fact that the cups were away from me, and her, at some distance, around her space made them detached from the conversation we were having. So communication totally broke down. I would say, Yellow, and she would go ravage the cups randomly. I simply could not understand why. What was the disconnect? What was going on? One minute it seemed as though Fig and I were really communicating; she was gently, civily choosing from a selection, then suddenly the magic was gone, and she is randomly ravaging through colored cups, totally ignoring what I have trained her to understand, and carefully informed her about before letting her make a choice.

So, next, I tried a bit of a mean trick. I put snacks under all of the cups, but only one contained a real snack. I wrapped all of the "snacks" rather thoroughly in tough papertowel. Now, Fig had to go to some trouble to unwrap the snacks. She spent several long minutes tearing through paper only to get a bit of an unappetizing popsicle stick. She looked at me like, What's going on here? Why are you doing this to me? Eventually, she'd get her snack, but only after a lot of wasted effort. I kept telling her the right cup, but for some stubborn reason, she still was not getting it. Fig I would say, this is just like the smaller game. Listen to me! But I could not connect. Communication had broken down, and was failing for some reason. Over here, I tell her, red. Then over there, it's like the conversation never happened.

Finally, I decided to show her some color cups. As usual, we reviewed the color names. Then, I did something differently. I took away the cups, and in their place I put identical, plain packages wrapped in paper towel, but only one contained a snack, just as before. As usual, I picked Fig up, and I told her the answer to where the snack was, red, or purple, or whatever. For some reason, I could see, it was like a light went on in her eyes, it was that Ah ha! moment when she suddenly understood that I was giving her information. She went right for the correct package every time! For some reason, giving her information that was there previously was the logical bridge across the straights of confusion. I was no longer speaking about the present, obviously, because there were no color cups, I was speaking about something both of us remembered in the past, so she was no longer able to dismiss my chatter as merely chatter, and she realized that I was giving her important information about the present. She clearly understood that I must be referring to what was there a minute ago, because right now, the thing I heard him refer to isn't even there!

Doing this experiment caused some switch to flip in Fig's mind. When she looks at me now, I see she is hanging on my every word. Her expression is, What is he going to say next? It's an amazing connection to make, and I do believe it is one way to demonstrate that one has successfully communicated.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But what about the 13 odd words I am teaching her. I simply had no way to know if Fig would ever speak when I started, but I had an indication that Fig could learn abstract language, and associate it with real life objects. So, I chose words that would be easy for her to say, and hear/distinquish from a distance. Remember that I was hoping that she could go out on her own. If she never learned to speak, I could still hope to communicate with her by voice, and perhaps a reading system.

You'll notice that none of the words contains uu, as in Oooh lala, or eh as in Elephant. Have you ever heard a Crow say those sounds? Me neither. So I left them out. It turns out that three sounds on my original list are sounds Fig can't say, or won't say, yet. Can you guess what they are? It will probably surprise you to learn that Ka, Ki, and Aka are the most difficult for her to say. Crows may caw, but they do not in fact say "ka". Crows say "aw". Fig is trying hard to get me to change aka to awa, which is a color she really likes, but so far she has not suggested anything for Ka, pink, or Ki, yellow. What to do?

I thought the phonic sounds I chose would be easy for Fig to say. Turns out some are not. The search for easy words phonic sounds goes on.  I am mining for new phonics she likes. I may have to change her color alphabet in the future if I discover simpler phonics.

I still have no idea how much, or how well Fig will do with speech in her life time. So, my idea was to teach her 13 phonic sounds, which happen to represent colors. If Fig did not learn speech well, those colors could later to be used to communicate via "writing and reading". The thirteen basic phonics function secondarily as an alphabet, and the colors ARE the letters. So, if I show Fig two yellow cards, that makes the word KiKi. This word currently has no meaning, but in the future, it may. By combining phonics, and colors into an alphabet I am able to skip a step in the path towards communicating with Fig. I have no idea if this has ever been done before, I have read about studies where animals use symbols and signs, I am not sure if this is a different idea or not, but this is why Fig is NOT learning English. If I teach her English, she will need to learn all the words, then the grammar, then the writing and reading. Do you think that is possible? No? Nor do I.

Hopefully one day, Fig will be able to take color cards and arrange them into words. Or maybe I will show her a color card arrangement that means chicken and fish, and she can choose what's for dinner. Whatever the outcome, it is a lot of fun trying to talk to the animals.

When Wild Animals Attack! Zow!!!

Fig has been with me for almost a year. My goal with this permanently injured Crow, as I stated previously, has always been to try to raise her as semi-independent. That is, I wanted to provide for her, a home, or a place to sleep, with food and water, and some social life, but I wanted her to be able to enjoy being a Crow, living outside, essentially free to roam, and jump about in the trees around our neighborhood. She is after all perfectly smart enough to evade cars and cats, and most crazy humans. She is no dumby.

Unfortunately, that dream, that goal came to a sudden crashing end this weekend, but please don't worry. Fig is fine; only the dream of freedom has been scratched from the drawing board. Why?

Well, on Saturday, I let Fig out. I gave her a choice, stay or go out. From time to time I would simply set her free to test our bond, and her will to go free. It was a risk, but she is a wild animal, and I really wanted to respect that, and let her remain so. She has been out a few dozen times over the last year. As usual she chose to go out. A frolic in the tree proves irrisistible to her. So, off the balcony she leapt, into the four story high tree by our building. And, there she sat.

A year ago, she would have been animated, hyper, a bit panicked, watching me highly suspiciously, looking for the next step towards freedom, and cawing like crazy for a rescue from her family if she was out free in the tree, but not so today. Now she sits quietly, mostly, talking to her family near by as they come and go, but also walking towards me from time to time, and conversing with me in the words only the two of us use daily, for colors, and a bit of English too. I have to say, it was one of the highlights of my life to see her, a wild, injured Crow, sitting free in the tree, being a beautiful, free, independent, real-deal bird. And it moved me deeply, her not fearing me, and taking the time to come and chat with me, when there were so many other Crows about in the atmosphere, coming and going, busy with breeding season duties, with whom she could have asked for cawfee.

Alas, after two hours in the fresh, light green, spring leaves of the tree, with the warm firey sunshine burning into her back, having snapped her beak at a few curious flies, and called enthusiastically to some siblings busy helping her parents with this year's nestlings, Fig retreated to the cool shade beneath the canopy where she sat among the branches, playfully toying with some of the old dry branches, breaking them off, fiddling about with them, then dropping them to the cool earth below. Then the needle really scratched across the record, and the music completely stopped! Terror from the skies! 

It was a surprise attack, and an attack in earnest by two massive Crows. But who was it? This is Fig's family territory. They know her! Could that be? I suddenly realize that one of the Crows is Fig's dad. So, the other must be an older, or same age sibling. But, why would they attack Fig? For whatever reason, they were out to make a statement, and the mission was accomplished; the message was received, like no other, for it was very nearly written in blood. These two large Crows, out of nowhere, actually appearing out of thin air, silently, stealthily, like Ninja's in the night, but in broad daylight no less, they fell down into that tree in unison, a pair in total collaboration, having conspired, planned and implemented their dreadful, sinister, coniving, traitorous, betrayal. Like a growling, thunderous, branch snapping, snarling pair of shadowy Tigers, they fell down through the canopy landing beaks first, crashing down with their full weight upon poor unsuspecting Fig. Incredible. No one. No one, can sneak up on a Crow...but a Crow! It was utter, stony silence on an almost windless day. They rolled and tumbled through the tree like a giant feathery meatball of fume and fury, then split apart snarling, alighting on different branches. Sheer terror! Nooooooo! I screamed, waving my arms wildly. Ah ha! They did not know I was there! They were so surprised, Fig had a chance. Very luckily, I managed to quickly get an eye lock on which Crow was Fig, my eyes wildly darting Crow to Crow, otherwise the battle may have been lost. She dove through the trees and onto the next building's roof, her attackers standing confused, each a bit dazed, staring mistakenly at the wrong Crow after their disorientation in the tumble. In an instant more, Fig was up the ten-foot-tall TV antennae, surveying every inch of her surroundings. No good. The scoundrels were on her again, divebombing from the air like a pair of WWI aces, in perfect order, a one two punch. Fig needed a miracle, AND, she'd have it! She really would.

For the first time ever, Fig flew!!! She really, really flew! I think I flew a bit too leaning out over the stairwell's edge into space. Who wouldn't? I almost leapt into that tree to rescue poof Figgy. She did not gain a centimeter of altitude as she crossed the parking lot, and then the street, but she flew straight as an arrow, and she flew far. Her incredible flight just went on, and on. It was like a sports movie's climatic moment, where everyone's jaw drops, and there is ten seconds of complete, utter stunned continuous silence, then replay, replay, replay. For crying out loud, she has no cartilage in one elbow!  How could she fly? My son and wife happened to be watching from the balcony, and they saw the whole thing. My son yelled, That's Figgy! And my wife said, No, it can't be. Fig can't fly. But she did! And the effort exhausted her.

She alighted on a power pole's wire, quickly remaneuvering to the top of the pole, looking for multiple excape routes. I was down the stairs, out the door, and into the street as quick as an Olympic athlete, at her side, for her defense. Crows are cowards in the face of an aggressive human, but these two were out for blood at all costs. I called Fig to come down quick, and she wanted to, but she also knew instinctively that down, was also, possibly, out, as in lights out for her. She'd have had no chance at all in a brawl on the ground. A dangerous gamble. Come on. Come on. No good. Incoming!!! But Fig was ahead of the game this time, her senses hightened. Off she went again. This time not quite so far. Obviously, she was exhausted from the surprise, the rush of adrenaline, her long flight, and the fear of death struck into her.

She flew to a nearby apartment's walkway, only making the second floor. She had started up on the fourth floor hieght, so she wasn't doing badly in the flight department with terror and adrenaline driving her will for survival. In comes the airforce again and again, I don't know how many times, twisting and turning, grabbing, and pouncing, snarling, growling, grawwk, rawww, akkk, gonk!!!! Go away, intruder!!! Then Fig's dad took a perch one story up, on the walkway wall, looking down on Fig who he once knew well enough, but apparently had forgotten, or forsaken. The other Crow took a perch a couple buildings away, resting up for the next attack. Fig's dad grocked loudly at her, making as if he would pounce down upon her at any moment, chasing her the full length of the walkway from above. Fig gronked back at her dad, but softer, and she struck an odd pose which I interpreted to be one of sexual submission, complete surrender. She squatted down, head forward, grawking softly, wings trembling, shuddering, tail raised up, softly growling. It seemed she was sending a mixed message. I am submitting you fuck, now back off!! It was a piteous sight. It felt very much like she was saying, Dad, it's me! Don't you remember me? She seemed frustrated and flabbergasted, in disbelief, as was I.

I took a moment to connect with her dad with my eyes, and my body language. What are you doing? I pleaded? And it seemed for a short moment that he was slowly recalling who Fig was, and lightening his tone. He turned his head reflectively as if to entertain my querry, then flew off when a man came down the walkway.

A man from a store had come out the backdoor to check what all the Crowmotion was. He quickly spotted Fig, and the imposing monster Crow above her on the balcony before he'd taken to the air again. Having a sudden chance presented, I quickly asked him if he had a key to the stairwell. Amazingly, he did! In his pocket! He opened the door, and  I ran to meet Fig on the second floor walkway. Still trembling with fear, she was not ready to come to me. She ran back down the walkway wall, and leapt a meter out onto the wobbly powerline. That instability was the sign  for the sibling to commense with the dive bombing. I saw it coming from the building down the road a ways, and Fig's dad was coming round again. Waving my arms I managed to fend them off well enough, but Fig's dad landed a diving grab, causing Fig to lose her balance, so she jumped to the banister of balcony stairwell around the corner of the same building. I opened outside stairwell door slowly, so not to startle her, but she could see the fruit stand from there, our usual meeting place. She flew down. Startled by a cyclist, she opted to land on the gate of a garage door, then jumped to the ground, and ran to the fruit stand where she hid behind a sign. That was our usual meeting place, and I knew she'd let me collect her there, and she did. She did not even pant in my arms, but she was trembling with andrenaline coursing through her muscles for the last 20-30 minutes. I lost track of the time.

The terrifying ordeal was over. Fig was still alive, only having suffered a couple of badly twisted feathers on her bad wing which was an easy grab. It took her nearly two hours to calm back down though, and perhaps more tragically, my hope and dream for her partial freedom, and independence was dashed, right then and there; a total loss. My heart sank.

Why did her own family attack her? There are many possible explanations. Maybe, they forgot her. Maybe, they forsook her. Maybe, because it is breeding season, and chicks are in the nest currently, the defense hormones are running ultra high, and it's take no chances. That is nature's cruel way. Perhaps they heard Fig talking to me, and got pissed off, or thought she must be foreign. Whatever the reason, message recieved. I cannot have Fig facing that on her own. She would simply never survive it. I am lucky she did not end up a bloody pulp this day. You do not get that lucky twice. She is a tiny, sweet female Crow, not a big imposing ape of a male. She'd have no chance.

There is now a roof over Fig's balcony, where only one third of one had previously been. I'll need to put in some windows or screens to give her some chance at a view of her surroundings, and the sky. It is a heartbreaking way to come round on a year with this incredible bird. But the story is not over. I'll have to get her out in the sun another way.

The irony though is that the biggest threat to this animal, who had no friends to begin with, and no love in this cold, bothersome world, save from me and the trees, was her own family...I never expected this. I never entertained the thought because up to this day, Fig was well remembered, accepted, and given quite an obvious show of sympathy from her family. Obviously, that has expired. Nothing can be done.

Boy, if I had only had a sliver of memory on my iPhone, and had managed to somehow catch that attack on video...Wow! That was seriously one of the scariest 30 minutes of my life. It is one of those moments I will never forget. Having read about aggression in Crows many times, but having never seen it in the slightest...this experience is unique.   

Mining Double Vowels for Easy Phonics

Teaching a bird to talk is a rather silly undertaking, I think, if one expects one's efforts to result in a conversing bird that is, but the experience of trying is one of the funnest things I have ever done, and I feel like I am learning some things about communication along the way.

First, I have learned that the brain is limited. Obviously, I knew this from my own brain, and it's report cards already. But what I am observing in Fig is showing me something about the way brains adapt to living with limitations, or at least the way our head's break up living through a dangerous day into manageable parcels. A bird is a much more desperate animal than a human. They are living airplanes. So, they can only keep so much fat on reserve. As such, their food bank is small. Finding food is essential, in short order. As Fig's parent, I find that hardly 15 minutes goes by during the day that I don't think about her next snack when I am home with her. The point is that birds have to stay on task, much more so than us humans. Even we don't have it that good (unless you live in America where the majority of us manage to carry around a few extra pounds). I probably go to the kitchen every 10 minutes myself. Probably shouldn't. Anyway, there is a lot of stress in life, and that revolves mainly around the issue of food, and that stress is ingrained in our psyches from past millenia. It would be hard to live with that level of stress all the time. So brains break the day into a schedule automatically. I am sort of keeping tabs on what a Crow's natural schedule is. It is very much more apparent than a human's inner schedule. A Crow's schedule is broken into several distinct parts, which I am only just beginning to map out. It's interesting and exciting, but more interesting perhaps, is that observing this in the Crow has made me more aware of the existence of my own human inner schedule which I have basically ignored since birth. Our brains actually schedules moods, energy levels, and activities in order to break up stress into manageable packets, while ensuring we expend enough energy to find sustenance. If I want to interact with Fig, I have to take these things into consideration, just as I need to choose the right time to chat with my boss. I think this inner schedule gizmo is probably way more important than we consider. Pretty much we simply ignore it in the artificial environment we inhabit now-a-days. Maybe we should not. Maybe we should rediscover it.

Second, teaching Fig, or trying to is making me a better teacher for human kids. I use the same techniques with kids that I use with Fig, and some things I have tried with Fig have carried over to the human classroom. The dual teacher life I lead, animal, and human, has reinforced the technique of starting with simple concepts and gradually increasing the complexity in order to step learners upwards on the learning ladder. For example, as an English teacher, I start with kids by teaching some core vocabulary. Then that progresses to making choices from two. Then choices from three. Then multiple choice. Then fill in the blanks. Then produce original language. It is the same with teaching Fig, though my successes with her language ability have been rather small to this point. More importantly is that she knows when language time is, she gets excited to do it, she enjoys it, and she plays with the language I have introduced in unexpected ways, and more and more she blurts it out before I am asking her for it. That is the same thing I want my human students to do, ultimately, to own, and play with language.
Language itself is a farse. For example, in English, my favorite, we say upwards, downwards, inwards, outwards, forwards, backwards, and sidewards. Wait, rewind. Sideways. You see, it all makes no real logical sense. So, language must therefore be secondary in importance to communication, and that is exactly what language teachers need to remember because not everyone can learn all the words, in fact, no one of us can learn all the words, so it is of uttmost importance that we learn to improvise, and be resourceful, and creative with the tools in our box, and flexible towards other communicators. Perhaps misspelling a word is a clever idea. It might represent progress. We should not laugh; we should open our minds to truly connect and communicate with others.

Thirdly, to expand on the final point above. Fig is limited in what sounds she is able to utter. This is natural, and not to say that she will not overcome all, or some of her limitations with time. I should press on, and motivate her to keep trying, but I should also meet her half way.  I started her out with a few words, and commands, gestures, and 13 colors to which I assigned "simple" sounds that I thought would be easy for her. Not all the sounds are in fact easy for her, and she likes some much more than others, but she tries to say all of them. Note, we get a very very limited amount of time to practice each day. What is interesting of late however, is that I am gradually gathering a collection of sounds which are easier for her to say. Most recently I have been introducing and playing with double vowel sounds which were previously left out of her vocabulary list (bracketed words are already learned and/or spoken by Fig:

Below, AIUEO are the Japanese sounds Ah, Letter E, Ooh, Eh?, Oh!

(A), I, U, E, (O)
AA, II, UU, EE, OO  (AhAh, EeEe, OohOoh, EhEh?, OhOh, repectively)
AI, AU, AE, (AO)
IA, IU, IE, IO
UA, UI, UE, UO
EA, EI, EU, EO
(OA), OI, OE, OU

Not sure how things will pan out, but I am enjoying the connection, and the playtime with this unfortunate, but lucky Crow.  

International Bird-House of Pancakes

* Please note that I am NOT an expert, or even a trained amateur on the subject of how to properly feed and care for corvids. NOT!  If you know better PLEASE inform me. I have simply posted this informatioin here because it is what I am doing, and it is a learning process happening in less than ideal times. The Crow I am caring for likes these pancakes. She eats 3-4 per day, representing 6-8 tablespoons of food.  I cook only 4-5 days of food at a time to keep it fresh. Half in the freezer. Half in the fridge.

Other Foods: This diet is supplemented with fruits and berries, nuts, meats, fish, vegetables, pastas from wheat, buckwheat, other grains or beans, and tofu, and a very little bit of cheese, and chopped date or other dried fruit as a treat, and eggs shells aplenty, and gravel and sand grit for digestive purposes. To my credit though, Fig likes my cooking quite a lot.

Wild Foods: Also an assortment of wild foods, available seasonally, are collected for Fig and that list of items continues to grow.

Bad for Birds: Salt and sugar are not added, nor are spices.

Toxic Foods: As far as I know chocolate, onion, and garlic are off cat, dog, bird menues for toxicity reasons, so they are not represented here.

Milk: As far as milk is concerned, if Fig drinks raw milk, she will produce an all white pellet of the consistency of sour cream, or soft cream cheese, and her BM will contain a lot of calcium. I do not know if milk is bad for her, raw or uncooked, but I do not give her raw, uncooked milk, just to be safe. She seems to have no digestive issues with cooked milk, and a tiny bit of cheese from time to time, by which I mean a teaspoon once a week, or less often probably; she likes cheese but there is simply way too much salt in it. I figure the milk in the pancakes keeps her calcium, Vit D, and minerals up, and her digestion seems very healthy and normalized on cooked milk included here, below.

Changing the Recipe:
The recipe below is easily changed by using brown rice, or genmai (whole germ rice), instead of white, whole grain flour, or whole wheat flour, red garnet instead of satsuma sweet potatoes corn flour instead of flakes, chopped buckwheat or other pasta, and cooked lentils instead of tofu, use other grains like quinoa.  I use a variety of cooking oils, but use them very very sparingly, olive, corn, or canola are okay, again, I use them very sparingly just wiping the pan with an oily papertowel.

My Goals:
1. True Variety: I try and give Fig a variety of grains which include corn, wheat, rice, and whole protein beans. This way she is getting, or her body can manufacture complete protein. Mixing grains varieties is important to enable complete proteins to be made. Also, a variety of food sources ensures varied nutritional input. If one food is nutritionally weak, you avoid starving the bird of whatever that food lacks.

2. Flavor: To achieve a good flavor. Sweet potatoes are the only source of real sweetness or flavor in the pancakes, and Fig hates cooked carrot. She likes carrots raw though, probably because they are fun to peck and chew. If I don't think it is tasty myself, I won't give it to her.

3. Easy to Digest: To fully cook the 2 tablespoon pancakes well, but to end up with a high moisture food source. Fig can and will eat a tougher pancake, but I aim to give her something soft, and easy to digest since she cannot forage for a wide variety of natural digestive grit like wild Crows do. The pancakes are very moist, but I still usually soak them in water for a minute or too to additionally soften, and hydrate them to last in Fig's food bowl and remain soft for the time I am at work.

4. I aim to feed her one chicken egg per 2-4 days. Not sure how I came up with this figure; it is what it is.

5. I measure the amount of food she gets, eats and leaves. This is fairly consistent and precise. I use food cups to ensure Fig gets the same amount of food each day.

6. To weigh Fig regularly, to check her weight is consistent.

Recipe One:
2 Eggs
1 cup whole milk
4 Tblspns flour
2 Tblspns white rice cooked
2 Tblspns raw Oatmeal
2 Tblspns plain cornflakes (rinse well if sugared)
4 Tblspns Hard Tofu
3 Tblsphs cooked sweet potato
(You can add ground beef or other meats too)



Oh dear, the flapjacks have flipped.





16 to a jar = 4 day supply



Right Photo: 5 days worth of flappyjackdaws.

Left Photo: Before whisking well. 

Spring's Mysterious Silence

I noticed in March that Fig suddenly and completely stopped starting any conversations with me. I would bring her in as usual in the late afternoon, and she would sit in silence for hours unless I started talking to her first, in which case she quickly became her usual chatterbox self. I thought for a while that she had caught my cold, but she was not slumped or ruffled. So I surmised that she was simply content, and happily living the life of any ordinary human bird.

Then it dawned on me, the wild Crows around town were also awfully quite. What the heck? Ah ha! Of course, the Crows have all been working together in families, as they do, building nests! Most will have been incubating eggs for a number of weeks now. It's so obvious; they are simply keeping a low profile from any predators, or trespassing Crows looking to steal some tasty eggs, and very secretively going about building their nests, incubating the eggs, then protecting the chicks. It's spring. Duh! I am no natural ornithologist, this much is clear. Plus all that nest building must make them awfully busy, focused and tired out, running around locating and collecting sticks, and grocery shopping for the mother and several new siblings eager to grow up as soon as possible. Interesting. They must be so very, very excited.

One simply never notices these things until a wild Crow comes to live at your house. It remains something of a mystery though, why would a one year old juvenile like Fig go quite? Perhaps it is because her family lives right outside, flying about her each day. I wonder, did she know that they were up to making this year's nest? Her father has visited her on our balcony several times for a quick chat, and several other times for a longer chat from the safety of the TV antennae atop the adjacent building. So, was her hushed response to mating season innate, instinctual, the natural thing for female Crows to do, or did she get the low down from her Pops? I have no idea, and will probably never know, but the only Crows making noise these days are the young Juveniles playing in the afternoons, so one thing is very clear, most of the family is busy, busy, busy going back an forth with sticks, and pine needles, and more recently, beaks stuffed full of food for hungry wee chicks on the make.

Oh yes, we can expect a raucous load of fledglings circling the skies around here mid-May. Hopefully, none of them will end up at our house this year. A Crow that cannot fly is like a Whale slumped at the bottom of the ocean, looking up at all its friends swimming about, delighting in the ocean's heights above; a sad, sad thing indeed. 

Crow Education

Fig is studying 13 colors using cards, strings, foam shapes, and most recently this reward box I made with wood, and ice-cream sticks. Sometimes I give her two colors to choose from, sometimes a few, or several, sometimes all 13. If she cannot get it, I just remove colors one at a time, until she feels more confidence about answering. She answers by lifting off the tab with her beak.  I wish I had the time to work with her more because time with Fig is always full of humor, and play, and delight.

Her favorite reward so far is chopped dates. The amazing thing about studying with Fig is that she does not cheat. I completely expected that she would simply open all the boxes looking for the treat, but she doesn't.  Fig is very childlike in her relationship with me.  She knows that I am asking her to find the treat by telling her which color box to open.  She will not open boxes randomly searching for the reward.  She intuitively understands, right from the start, that I am placing an expectation on her, that it is a listening exercise, and that she has to try and find THE box which contains the reward, that she is supposed to earn it, by answering correctly. If she is uncertain, but thinks she knows the answer, she will lean towards the box she suspects, sort of pointing to it, looking to me for some extra assurance. She even tips her head when she is thinking about it, much as humans tend to do. And she is thrilled when she gets the answer right.

Fig is so similar to us humans in her moods, in her personality, in her interactions,  at times it makes me feel like I am actually talking to a Crow no differently than I might talk with a human child if we were to do the exact same activity. The only difference being that a human child might want an m&m or something other than a small bit of date.

Maze Puzzle for the Birds (Update 1 below)

I have no idea if anyone has ever tried this with a bird before, of any sort, but I decided to make a maze for Fig to see if she can learn to get a soybean or other rolly type of food through the maze. This first maze is very simple, but still requires quite a lot of deliberate action to complete. First, the food goes into the center via the hole. The maze is up on a ball glued in the center, on the bottom. By tipping the maze this way and that, the food can be made to roll to the square opening where Fig can take it out. Well, we'll see if she is able to pick this up or not. I suspect she'll get frustrated and want to peck the plexi-glass, so this will be a supervised activity when she is in a calm state of mind.

(Update 1) April 12: I tried this with several foods, but white bread rolled, or gently smooshed into a tight ball works very well. Fig has tried this once. She was full, and sleepy at the time, but that was intentional because I wanted to introduce this to her while she was calm. She sat on a familiar perch, and I put the ironing board in front, and just below her so she could easily see into the maze. Here's how it went: 1. I did the maze for her. I rolled the bread out. She ate it. Then she pecked the ironing board to tell me to hurry up and give her another ball of bread. 2. I did the maze again, using my finger in sort of a pecking gesture to move the ball around. After a lot of hesitation, deep looking into the opening, and much concern, Fig finally took the ball out of the box on her own, but she was incredibly suspicious about the whole thing. Again she pecked at the ironing board, 'Nother bread ball waiter!" 3. We took turns doing the maze. Fig had a couple of good pecks at the glass, and the wood edging; very hard to tell yet if she was attempting to intentionally roll the ball one way or the other. She refused to take the bread ball out on her own. I waited 15 minutes and even left the room a few times. She was just not going to put her beak in the gap again. Maybe because the ball was smaller, she did not feel it was worth the risk. Eventually, I rolled it out, and she snatched it up, pulled it apart, and gobbled it up. So that was it.  She was to full and too sleepy to take any interest in another go. Tomorrow she's on her own. Just need to balance the box a bit better with some coins which I will glue on the bottom.