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.

Molt & Molt &

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

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

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

Shoosh Now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no evil in the Crow.

The Difference Between Humans and Crows

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

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

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

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

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

The BEST Bird Info Site EVER!

Want to know everything about every bird? Go here, and subscribe.

http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/

There is tons of free info too. I needed to know what Crows eat naturally so I could take care of Fig better, and they have pages and pages of scientifically collected data about what, what not, what percentage protein vs vegetable matter, amount of grit, and type found in dead Crows, seasonal variation, studies results on eating, feeding, predation, caching, cooperation, and on and on. The information is especially vital to wildlife rehabbers. Just an incredible, massive resource.

(Link) This Guy is the Crow Expert

If you are interested in reading about Crows, Kevin J McGowan's website, FAQ, etc... are the place you want to read.

http://www.birds.cornell.edu/crows/index.html

(Link) Johnny Dipp

How can ignorant people get so wealthy?

Then, once they are ridiculous rich, how do they manage to remain so ignorant? 

These questions obviously concern a paradox, or illusion or something and I will take them with me to the grave unanswered, and no better understood. 

Seriously, Dipp? 

 http://gawker.com/5906868/johnny-depps-tonto-is-based-on-a-white-mans-painting-of-an-imaginary-native-american

(Link) Tool Use of Crows

This is fun stuff.
http://www.onekind.org/be_inspired/animal_sentience/tool_use/tool_use_in_new_caledonia_crows/

(Link) Pet Ravens and Crows. Really?

http://www.restarea1mile.com/ravens.html

This site was useful in that it confirmed quite a bit of what I have already learned and discovered about Fig.

Two things I completely disagree with the author about in addition to the very idea of having a pet corvid to begin with are feather trimming and poop in the bath.

Trimming a Crow's feathers to any degree cannot be the correct decision. I would not trim any bird's feathers in fact. I would like to state the previous sentence emphatically. Please don't cut birds feathers, instead learn to train, handle, manage and keep them safe. Because Fig is injured though I mulled over this for months, and finally decided that doing it would endanger Fig in a high glide, or fast descent in which Crows naturally break their fall by extending their wings to create a cushion of air, like a hovercraft, to land on. If you trim the feathers birds cannot safely break their fall, and they will get injured, breaking a wing, or breastbone, or a beak. I will try to post about managing birds without trimming their feathers another time.

If you have a pet Crow or Raven, which Fig is not, she is an injured bird that I am doing my level best to tame and care for, then you ought to have a large enough space for them to jump around and fly in. Fig cannot fly well, but she still has a large enough outdoor living space to exercise and fly in, and I still take her outside to do a measured amount of exercise, even in the winter.  I usually wrap her up in a scarf to warm her between runs, jumps, or short flights depending on what we are doing as having a broken wing makes it hard for her to keep as warm as she would normally.  She likes to run, while flapping her wings. She likes to fly up on low walls, benches, and me. She likes to climb trees, and other things. I am only beginning to understand how to meet her exercise needs as an injured, captive bird.

If I wanted a pet, I would get a parrot, NOT a corvid of any kind, they are very difficult to care for well. Parrots are from warm climates, with endless fruit to eat, so they can sit in the sofa all day. Crows are much more active, probably because they need to move to find food, and stay warm. They store up a lot of energy during the day, and become wound up like a dog if they are contained, even in a large aviary.  Been to the zoo? It's like that. Everyone feels sad looking at zoo animals. They need to be able to dissipate their naturally super high physical, and psychological energies. They cannot be caged, period. This is what I have discovered about Crows.  I raised Fig in a cage which gradually got bigger and bigger as she demanded it, and that was an intentional process implemented in hopes of helping her to adjust better psychologically to the imperfect captive bred situation she inevitably has to live with. It seems to have worked well, but even she could never be kept caged, she simply would not put up with it, so eventually the cage went. A corvid bird kept in a large aviary will still require time outside the enclosure to remain sane, they simply are not pets.

Regarding poop in the water. If your bird is pooping in the bath, or drinking water, tossing food around, or other messy things, then your bird is not happy. Listen, and make the necessary adjustments. If you do your bird will forgive you for your past crimes. Consider leaving the cage open at least when you are around. Birds often like their enclosures, they just don't enjoy feeling confined, ignored, or neglected. Fig has never pooped in her bath or drinking water, in part I suspect, because she grew up in a cage where she habituated to using a toilet tray, but it is also that her enclosure is large enough that she is not feeling too cramped, and that I keep a regular schedule to socialize with her morning afternoon, and evening, so she is not rebelling now. After the cage got tossed she has successfully retained the habit of using the tray as a toilet. You can train your bird to do this too. Place the toilet tray under their favorite place to sit. Set the tray back so it covers the space "behind" the perch. Corvids will naturally go to the bathroom in the same spot, in the same direction. Don't make the perch longer than the tray is wide, but don't suddenly change your set up either. If you have a long perch now, get a long tray, and gradually reduce the perch and tray size at the same time. The favorite perch is now the toilet spot. Give your bird another perch close to the toilet perch. They will eventually learn that the close perch is close enough to the favorite spot, that they will venture away from the toilet perch and sit there sometimes too, and they will feel not far enough away from the toilet perch to have an excuse not to habituate the toilet perch when they need to go to the bathroom. Corvids have a naturally guilty conscience; develop that, and use it to your advantage. In time they will become habituated to "going to the bathroom".  Your next challenge is to design a system of perches to get him or her off their favorite perch, out and about exercising independently. At first they will poop here and there a bit, but eventually they will stick to the toilet with a high or perfect score. If you make a big fuss about cleaning up, they will clean up their act because they don't like mom cleaning their room any more than you do; scrub away for ages with a big scowl of disapproval, and your big bum in their face and make them go sit somewhere off the favorite perch while you do it; they will clean up their act just to get you out of their life.

I will post more about exercise perch systems, as I am still learning and experimenting with Fig. More than likely though, your bird will willingly return to the toilet perch to do business as birds are creatures of habit just like you and me. Don't underestimate their desire for cleanliness, and personal space. Birds will usually only step in their own poop when fleeing.  Gradually the toilet perch can be made shorter and shorter, and the tray smaller and smaller too. You can install a simple filter system to continually flush the tray. I will post about how to construct this later.  For anyone considering a pet Corvid, Corvid poop and Parrot poop are two different things all together. For this reason, I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would want to live with a Covid in the house unless they had a filtering toilet tray, and a well toilet-trained bird. If you don't have a pet corvid yet, please drop the idea, and get something more domestic suitable. Parrots will read a page of newspaper a day. A Crow will read the whole sports section, the funnys, and the the classified ads, and depending on what she eats, the smell is not pleasant because they eat meat. The consistency is also not a nice agreeable package like Parrot poop is. That is as poetically as I can put the topic. Please choose your companion bird wisely; there is nothing easy, or sensible about having a Corvid for a pet. It is just mean to the bird.

(Link) Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Man, if you like birds, bird watching, ornithology, conservation, science, etc....
the Cornell Lab of Ornithology is THE place to be.

Please visit them on the web.

http://www.birds.cornell.edu/Page.aspx?pid=1478

Fan Mail for Fig: Where do you sleep?

Thank you for your question.

(Please see Rule 78 under post Fig's Rules and Regulations. I have updated Fig's sleeping arrangement explanation there since writing this post.)

This is a good question. It is not easy to answer, because the answer is continually evolving.

The short answer is, I sleep outside on a balcony. When it is cold, I sleep inside because my injured wing does not draw up snuggly to my body making it easier for me to get cold.

This is the long answer:

When I was first injured, I had to spend four weeks contained in a large box with only small windows to minimize my movement and stay warm while healing.  After that I spent three weeks in a half box, half cage. Then I moved into a full cage for about three months. The last few months I have lived "free"on my own balcony with limited freetime outside tethered and untethered doing survival training trying to learn to be more independent.

All of this time, despite four accomodation changes, I lived, and slept in pretty much the same spot. After a time, I decided that I wanted out of my hospital box, so I started to peck holes in it. After a time in the half box/half cage, I started to peck holes in that too. And then after a while, I started to rebel inside my full cage. So, Matt chucked out the cage, and gave me the whole balcony. In order to do that he had to build a fence to extend the height of the balcony wall about 50 cm, because I can jump up in the air about a meter and a half. So technically, I am confined, and free presently.

All this time, I have preferred certain places to sit, sleep, and go to the bathroom. Now that there is no box or cage, I still prefer and favor those places. I sit in my favorite spot. I sleep in my favorite spot. And I have chosen a convenient place to use as a toilet. I'm pretty smart. 

Now, when I was getting well, staying in one spot was favorable for a time. Matt had to be very careful that my feet did not get sore from standing in the same spot all day, day after day; Crows are not Parrots, we need to move around much more. Matt did a great job of caring for my feet by padding my perches, washing, and massaging my feet regularly, and taking me out for walks. He also designed different size, and shape perches to give my feet a full range of motion.

 Now that I have no cage, however, the problem of sore feet from standing still all day does not go away as you might suspect. Now my naturally high-energy state, and desire to move a lot, and my seemingly conflicting desire to stay in my prefered spots where I feel safe combine to do me in. You see, I want to move, because I need to move, but I want to stay safe because I am injured, and habituated to "familiar territory" I came to feel safe in during rehabilitation.  So, now I am very much at risk for a propensity to do repetetive movements over and over again like a zoo animal gone mad which will cause me to wear my foot pads down until they start to bleed. Forming and following pathways habitually is something animals do naturally in the wild, it is not bad, but in confinement, it becomes a big problem as following the same short path again and again leads to stress injuries, and mental boredom, eventually insanity. Fortunately, Matt has designed a system of perches which allow me to be me, but prevents me from unwittingly hurting myself.

My perches are still evolving, but the system which is working well for my feet, my regular exercise, and my sanity presently is this:

Each perch is a flat pine plank. Half the plank is flat. The other half is a round perch of various diameters raised just enough so I have to lift my leg about as high as it can go comfortably while maintaining level shoulders. Both halves are wrapped tightly 2-4 times with thick fleece. Some raised perches are level, some are at various angles. Got it? Now, if you watch wild Crows, you will notice that they jump around in trees a lot. They sometimes jump sideways, and sometimes they do a jump and a turn. Sometimes a movement is level, sometimes it is up or down. Matt is attempting to design the perch system on the balcony so that I get a natural mix of sideways/up, down, level movements,  forward/up, down, level movements and plenty of chances to do "the twist". It is a challenge and the system continually evolves, but for now things are working. Everyday, at least one of the perches is reversed, this forces me to devise new paths, and to exercise the other side of my body, and my brain. It makes me form new paths mentally, and play new games. It is important not to change things so dramatically, or suddenly, as that stresses me out a lot. You cannot just come to my house and rearrange all the furniture. Okay?   

Another problem is that I like to be where I like to be, and I like to be up. Most birds naturally like to be up. You will notice wild Jungle Crows sit high in the trees, or up on apartment buildings. We are virtually allergic to the ground, and if we do go to the ground we go in pair to take turns watching each other's backs. But, if Matt puts me up high, all I do all day is sit still, and get sore feet. It's like a bird sofa. If Matt puts me too far down though, I quickly get neurotic, and exhibit repetetive stress motion syndrome. So, Matt rather cleverly puts me half way up, or half way down, rather. This way I have some stress, which is enough to induce me to venture out onto the perch system and get a lot of daily exercise, which I would be getting if I could fly. This approach too is working very well, but it took some time to figure out, and is still evolving. Anyway, for now, my feet are very healthy. Matt does not even need to trim my finger nails anymore because they get natural wear during exercise. I am a very happy bird, but you may be interested to know a bit more about bird psychology.

Because I came to my adoptive family as a full grown fledged bird, what is referred to as a passage bird in falconry terminology, I don't behave like a baby acting like Matt is my mother; instead I have a fully developed sense of myself, and the relationship I have with Matt is one of developing trust, and a bond, and respect, and maybe love one day, we'll see after a couple of years. So far, my degree of trust for Matt, my bond with him, and my respect for him leave something to be desired in his eyes. He says I am too independent for my age. Every adult says that about their kids. Whatever. Anyway, because I consider myself an adult, I don't mind sleeping by myself, but I want to sleep where I want, and I have a large list of demands which must be met, or I self destruct quickly, literally. You see, the fact is, the big scary bird everyone thinks the Crow is, is in fact the biggest, chicken in the whole world. Very few people have any idea about this fact and think us Crows are frightening, scary beasts. Nothing could be more untrue. It is the silliest idea ever. 

I just do not like anything to change, and I am highly suspicious of anything new. These are traits humans share with Crows. It is why we survive and thrive. This paranoid wariness is mostly my nature but in my case this personality trait is much worse because I am captive, and because I live with an permanent injury, I know it, and it makes me live in fear for my safety moment to moment, day in, day out. Matt understands that because he gave me his blood, sweat and tears. In fact, Matt cared for my infection, open wound, and broken bone daily for seven weeks straight day and night, living with grave uncertainty, and not a lot of medical assistance forth coming, even so I sort of developed the idea after a while that he was torturing me, so that also makes me a bit more on edge than I might be normally. Let me give you a few examples.  If Matt wears a bandaid on his hand, I ask him to take it off. It's not usually there, so I won't have it. That's just the way it goes. It isn't that I don't trust Matt, I just don't trust the bandaid! Matt said that a part of Crow intelligence is being capable of imagining what might happen in the future, so we are able to plan in advance. Apparently, we also have very active imaginations, as I am often guilty of wondering what Matt might be planning to do, to me, for example, with that strange bandaid thingie on his finger. Fortunately, this paranoia, which we are all hoping will go away over time, is localized to the bathroom area where I was treated for my injuries. Also, there are places where I want to be, and places I don't. I can move about, but there is a time limit before I have to get back to my favorite place, or I freak out. Once Matt left me in the shower a little longer than he usually does, so I pulled all the feathers off my leg, and they took months to grow back in. In my mind, change means the end might be near, and it makes me panic because all my natural defenses are gone. So the answer to your question is, I sleep where I want, when I want, how I want, which is on two legs, hunkered down in my favorite spot on a soft blanket. Usually that is outside on my favorite flat perch, but recently my adoptive family is kind enough to let me sleep in out of the winter cold in the the shower room, and even I am smart enough to know that a warm place is better than a cold one, so I agreed not to pluck feathers from my leg. However, someone left a small bag of garbage out on my balcony the other day, if you can believe that, which I did not appreciate, so just to remind them of that fact, I pulled a small patch of feathers about the size of a shirt button out of my leg again. I just like to remind everyone from time to time, that I am the one with hollow bones in the family. And, in case you missed it just there, Crows do not necessarily like your stinky garbage, especially when it is in our living room.

Here is a picture of my favorite perch being constructed. I like to sleep on the flat side. Please note that the screws must be recessed to prevent me from pecking the metal, and harming my beak. I love pecking the wood, tearing the fleece off, putting my favorite toy, which is a toothbrush under the round perch, and bringing food here so I can relax while I eat. Note that up for me is about twice as high as this, because I grew up in a box, and a cage, so the hight of this perch represents half way up in my mind. I have a variety of perches like this which I love to jump side to side, to and fro, up and down, and twist on. Matt will post more about my perches another day.

Figgy's Injuries

I was injured in the nest; I got an ingrown feather near my right elbow which became very badly infected after I pecked at it. My arm swelled as gangrene set in, pulling the skin tighter and tighter. The open wound was on my elbow, and as my arm swelled the wound hole slipped up and over much of my elbow joint, exposing it. In addition, the wound bled a lot, and the blood dried, sticking my wing to my body. At 4-5 weeks of age when I fledged, I jumped from 12 stories up, and fell straight down because my right wing was only able to partially open. In the fall I broke my right humerus about a centimeter from my elbow joint. It is natural when birds fall too fast to the ground for them to break their fall by opening their wings, thereby creating a cushion of air, like underneath a hovercraft, unfortunately, this very natural survival reaction cost me a broken bone because my wing would not extend. Anyway, eventually, I lost the entire elbow joint and the loose bit of my humerus which broke off. Due to the highly progressed infection at the time I was rescued, there was no chance to save the joint. It was actually fortunate that my humerus broke because it allowed my elbow joint to dry and fall off neatly. I was very lucky not to lose my right wing, or die from infection. It was a tough two month fight, but I survived with both wings, and now I can even fly a little horizontally, and glide downward. In fact, I enjoy regular flying exercise, both on my own in my living space, and with Matt. I can only fly up about one meter and a half, including jumping, but with a bit of flapping I can climb and scale trees, poles, and buildings and other textured obstructions better than you might think. I I can only glide down safely from a height of 3-4 stories, but I seem to understand this, and I usually won't climb to a dangerous height. Also, I am only able to retract my wing partially, so it is a little bit difficult for me to keep as warm as I'd like when it's cold. In short, I could never survive on my own, but I am trying hard to learn to be somewhat independent; I need lots of daily, special care and love, all of which you can read about more and more, right here. 

Here are some gruesome pictures of my infection, and injury for anyone interested in the medical side of things. This is my elbow at the time I was rescued. This picture was taken after two one hour long soapy baths to separate my wing from my body which was glued fast with a large amount of dried festering blood. The black mass you see if you look carefully is the cartilage of my elbow joint which is superficially dried out; the bones are all infected and gangrenous. The swelling was dramatic; usually the upper arm is about pencil width.

The second picture below is seven weeks later. The skin managed to grow in under the joint, and pinch off all of the cartilage. A small detached bit of humerus also managed to fall out of the wound. It was a very stressful, and challenging two months of daily care for me, and for Matt. Without any free medical care available for a Crow, Matt was left to care for me on his own. Fortunately he has quite a bit of experience, but this was the worst injury he has ever treated. Uncertainty loomed everyday for weeks while we fought back the infection together. A vet would most likely have amputated my wing, so the fact that Matt used a low tech approach to fight back infection, drying my joint two to three times per day for 20-60 minutes, with only a warm hair dryer and a bit of iodine solution actually ended with a much better result for me, because now I still have both wings, and some limited flight, and I can keep warm. If my humerus had not broken, I am not sure I could have healed as I did, so actually breaking that bone was a bit of luck too. You may need to scroll down to see the second picture, our computer is wonky.