Xmas with the Relatives

It is late December. In fact, tomorrow is New Year's Eve. And you would think the local Crows were gearing up for a party.

What is all the commotion about? Is it an abundance of tasty garbage put out early by families off to visit relatives? Is it the smell of lots of holiday cooking? Or is it, as I suspect, the run up to mating season?

The Crows are around, and they're scattered all over roof tops. It is not a roost, it's local family in their territory. And they are cawing their brains out. Something damn important is being decided, and I think it must be along the lines of who all is mating, where all nests are to be built, who all is in charge of what, and a whole lot of other deciding and planning.

There is such a ruckus from early morning until early evening that even Fig, who usually stays in bed until 10 or even 11a.m., especially in the cold of winter, is up at bloody 7a.m.!!!! That is still late though because her family is up at 5 or 6a.m. most mornings before the sun. I must have the world's most wonderful neighbors.

It does not even matter if I let Fig sleep inside. She hears the conversation outside, through the lengthy fan ducts, perfectly well, and she feels compelled to join in the political discussions. There are plenty of other times of the year when wild Crows are up early making loads of noise, but this is the only time of year that Fig is excited enough to actually wake up, and emerge from her cozy sleeping box to join in...after only 7 hours of sleep mind you! So this time of year is especially significant in some way, and I have to take measures to ensure that Fig, my family, and neighbors can all get enough sleep.

I have to bring her in, talk to her, and give her some breakfast to get her to quiet down. She soon forgets about the Crows outside and goes back to sleep after a nibble. In fact, she quiets down and forgets them so well, it rather feels like she doesn't much like them, despite the fact that she vigorously converses with them.

Just to test this theory out, I put on my jacket and took out Fig's tethers. She utterly freaked. What??!!! Are you kidding? You are NOT taking me outside today!!! Fig will usually put up a certain amount of objection to going out, especially when it is cold out. But I can usually sway her to change her mind. In fact, changing her mind is a prominent characteristic of her personality. She will usually issue a rejection if I request to do just about anything, which I will accept. Then after a few minutes of thinking it over, she will change her mind and enthusiastically say, Hey, alright, let's do that! But today, there was utterly no hope of changing her mind. I tried hard to convince her that it would be fun to go out and join in, to see everyone, but she was absolutely not going to go to this church potluck.

It seems to me, that she loves  her mother immensely. Her mom is out there two or three blocks away at times, and in all the cacophony, I can pick out the mother's distinct voice, and clearly hear that Fig is holding a conversation mainly with her mother who after three years apart, still has unfaltering devotion to Fig, in fact, I think she may be her favorite kid. Fig is after all, the kid who has stayed at home. The mother is around, chatting with Fig off and on, almost daily, mainly in the mornings and late afternoons. But the thought of going outside, with so many unfamiliar, confident siblings swarming about is just too much for poor, delicate Figgy, the unfortunate runt of the litter. 

It appears that Crows, too, dread holidays with their relatives.

Note: I am guessing that this year is going to be a very serious mating season with loads of offspring. It feels like the year, three years ago when Fig was born. That was another big year with loads of enthusiastic activity. The two years since were very quiet with very few offspring. In fact, this last year, it appeared to me that Fig's mother only manage a single baby, and I think it died, which may explain why the mother has given Fig so much extra attention this year. It appears to me that she is going to nest higher up this year, and close to our building, if not right on top of it again. This will ensure a very noisy fledge in mid May, which ought to be exciting, but it also presents me with the problem of keeping Fig quiet which has not been a problem the last two years as I think Fig's presence caused her mother to choose other more private nest locations the last two seasons, but now the mother seems to have accepted that Fig is simply a person in her neighborhood, in her favorite building, and will nest where she used to, if she so wishes. Well, we'll see. I am planning to replace Fig's fences very soon with new material to help fend off any hormone crazed territory defenders come early March who may be inclined to attack her, and drive her away.

Toilet Training...Accomplished!

Success! I have no idea how it has happened, but Fig is now, for all appearances, cooperatively toilet “trained”. What this means is that she can now sit on my shoulder around the house without having any “accidents”. This is a double achievement on her part.

 

First, she has finally realized that being on my shoulder is safe, whereas before she always wanted to be in my lap. She never poops if I am holding her, or if she is sitting in my lap, even if something really frightens her, because being embraced, or coddled effectively makes her feel protected. So pooping on me is not something she wants to do, it is something that is triggered by fear, and when she is afraid, she may not be able to help herself. Being up on my shoulder in the house, with a cat around, and TV, and unusual noises, and kids, and things, and an environment in which things are constantly changed, moved, different day to day (Crows are hyper aware of small changes in their environment) simply made her too nervous. Now, however, she has made the leap out of her safety blanket space, and into ours. Her space is still somewhere she wants to be, but she now happily spends hours in our space comfortably without the need to sit in my lap and be reassured. Now she sits on my shoulder, and feels safe and comfortable, even if I am sitting down, which puts us much nearer the cat and kids. This is huge leap of confidence, and trust for Fig which I was not expecting her to make so suddenly. The other day, I had two kids in the house, both rowdy, one rather obnoxiously in the face of the poor Crow…but Fig handled it all very calmly, without pooping!

 

Fig is so communicative; you can really understand what she is telling you. I can gesture to her, do you want to come down to my lap, or up to my shoulder, and she can clearly state her wish to move, or not to move.

She has not merely decided that my shoulder is safe, what is going on is much more than this. What she is saying to me is, I will go onto your shoulder, even though it still makes me nervous, because I want to be a big girl. It is exactly the same thing as when parents send their kid to the store, or let them ride around the block on their own for the very first time. The kid is nervous still, maybe even worried, perhaps afraid, but the kid is saying, I am ready to face my fear, and I want to try, in part because they know they must grow up, and in part because they want to please, impress, and receive praise from their parent for their bold achievement. This is exactly what is going on with Fig.

 

Now, getting her shouldered in the house, was easy. She has been able to sit on my shoulder for more than two years now. The issue was that she has been too afraid to not have accidents when up there, or have stress build up to untolerable levels, causing her to act out, and need a break. I suspected I could get her to the point where she would agree not to poop on me though, because she has been accident free when I carry her around town, or sit her on my lap for as long as I can remember. Something about the shoulder was just too insecure though. Now, thank goodness, it is no longer an issue for her, and this means she can spend time with more than one person in the house, she can do dishes with us, she can sit at the table, and she can be a fully active family member.

 

Fig’s second achievement is her toilet training success. She is still dependent on a human to get her to her toileting spot, but now amazingly she has started to notify me when she needs “to go”. This is not merely a litter boxing effect at work; she has decided very clearly, that she is deliberately going to communicate with me because she realizes that is what I want her to do, what I expect from her. It’s a real Eureka moment for her, and for us. She is very clearly telling me, and I mean actually looking me in the eye, and saying in her own words, “Oh, I get it! You want me to tell you when I gotta go! Right, no problem. Don’t worry.”  Again, I find myself trying to explain something very difficult to describe here.

 

Okay, so she is sitting on my shoulder, for example. And I look up at her, and she does her usual look back at me right in the eye, and “gurrs” softly to acknowledge eye contact. And perhaps she wags her tail, or plays with my hair a bit. Or maybe she softly ambles a bit, shifting her weight foot to foot. Or maybe she looks up, then back, or adjusts an eye. There are so many small motions that she does, and they are all telling, all communicative, and no one is enough on its own to be a full sentence. These head tilts, eye winks, foot fidget tapdancing, tail wags, beak lifts, feather ruffles, and utterances are a fluid, contiguous stream which segue into meanings and action based on context. And while I still find myself guessing at a lot of what Fig does or says or does, she has made one thing very clear, she has said to me,  “Okay, I get it. You want me to communicate when I need to go potty. No problem.” And if I ask her, “Do you need to go?” her response is very clearly nuanced as either, “Don’t worry about it.” or “Yeah, maybe I can go.” or “Uh, Matt, I really gotta go. Hurry up!”

 

We have now had four days together in the house, accident free, up on the shoulder. I even stuffed her full of food just to make certain it isn’t a fluke. It is nothing short of a Xmas miracle.

 

Next, I cannot wait to get Fig confident enough to bound about person to person, shoulder to shoulder, socializing as much as she likes, with whoever she fancies, and building her own relationships, and finally, bounding off to the toilet entirely on her own, and hopefully flushing it too.  She already, ironically, goes bounding about in search of the cat although she is terrified of the cat. She intentionally jumps down to get closer to her in certain situations, and when she gets close, she pulls this cat whisperer face and posture which just mesmerizes the cat. Fig deliberately creates situations where the cat is inclined to chase her across the house at high speed. It is seriously as if she is, no joking, training the cat. I mean, as best I can tell, the Crow is in fact, teaching the cat, by play, and repetition, not to attack, to stop short, to pursue to a certain place, then halt on command. She is taking serious risks, and flirting with death, but like a flutist to a king cobra, she appears to be in complete control. It’s madness. Wonderful madness. I even wonder if she might be copying me by expressing approval, and disapproval to the cat. Or teaching the cat the game we usually play at the park where I chase her from point a to point b and back repreatedly. I shall be writing more about this again.

 

I digress. Just to make certain I have accurately recorded this. I did not train Fig to be toilet trained. I simply expressed mild disapproval when appropriate, and she caught on. She has always understood the meaning of poop, it is a word she picked up very early on as a youngster, and on her own has understood very quickly too that I don’t want to pick her up until she poops. She has understood this so well in fact, that I can tell if she wants to be picked up or not, when I approach, by if she poops or not. A poop means, Yep, I am ready to go! Please pick me up!

 

Likewise, I never trained her not to poop when I hold her walking around town. Usually, I just sweep her legs back, and she relaxes and goes to sleep reclined on my arm, either upright, upside down or sideways. She does not mind either way. She simply won’t poop in these positions.

 

Nor did I ever teach her not to poop on my lap. She decided that on her own. She naturally recognizes me and my person, and I guess she either has too much respect, or too much self-consciousness to go in proximity to others.

 

And finally, I have not taught her to inform me when she needs to go to the bathroom if she is on my shoulder, or perched on my arm, or somewhere in the house. I simply told her, Please don't poop, whenever she alighted on me or furniture.

 

The point is very much that I have not taught her anything. Yes.

 

This means several things. It means that Crows have a self awareness, and self-consciousness. They have awareness of others, and respect for them. They have awareness of a common space, and respect for it. But most importantly by far, this means that Fig, that Crows have awareness of the expectations of others, any respect for those expectations. They try to meet others' expectations, because they desire approval and praise. They understand the tone of your voice. They learn your vocabulary, even if they do not manage, or decide to mimick or use it themselves. They learn, just as a human child learns, by listening, observing, and remembering what happens in what context.

 

Everything Fig has achieved as far as toilet training stems from her own abilities to listen, to remember, to understand, percieve situations, and others' wants, and to act to receive positive feedback.

 

BUT Fig does not merely seek to please. She does have her own boundaries. She does want time alone. She does want what she wants, and she does have opinions which need listening to. She is not simply a robot trying to serve a master, not at all.

 

As one example, she recently objects to using the toilet room when I take her to go potty. This is an inconvenient fact that is going to put a bump in the road I have planned to travel towards full, actual toilet training, where she uses a human bathroom, and flushes the toilet on her own. She has an issue with the toilet room. It is a small, typical Japanese toilet room, so she finds it rather claustrophobic. She feels cornered. She has recently told me in no uncertain terms that she will sit on my shoulder without having accidents. But at almost the exact same time, she has decided to tell me that she really is not a fan of the toilet room. Instead she tells me, she would prefer to poop from her usual perch, the one in the “bath” room, not the toilet room, the exact room I am trying, eventually, to extricate her from over time. She has even invented a game, all on her own, which she often does. When she wants to go to the bathroom, she flies to the end of the laundry room, as far from the entrance to the “bath” room as possible. She is saying, You open the bathroom door, and hold up both arms, and I will hop across and into the “bath” room to use the toilet. She is saying, I like this game, and I like going to the bathroom in there, NOT in there. She has figured out a clever way to get two things that she wants, in exchange for doing the one thing that I want. This is how clever these animals are folks.  

 

This little game of hers makes me think again, more deeply, when I am watching the wild Crows in the trees, and on buildings, what significance, what meaning the place they choose to sit has. Sitting in a certain place can be a powerful way to communicate to everyone who can see you, it’s time to head off to the roost, or time to go foraging, etc… That Fig is now doing this behavior with me using place as communication, talking to me from my shoulder, playing with my hair, and other things….are signs that she is freely, naturally communicating. It is exhilarating. It also has me a bit worried, because she seems to be an incredibly capable negotiator. Who knows what she's going to be negotiating next!?

Someone's Still A Tad Camera Shy

Toilet Training

Had a very interesting experience with Fig the other day in regards to potty training.

As I have written, she sits on my lap for extended periods, never going to the bathroom on me, but if she sits on my shoulder she will. Likewise she never goes to the bathroom if I wrap her up in my jacket, or carry her around like a baby, or otherwise constrain her in the way Parrots might more usually be handled, which surprisingly she really enjoys too. I had no idea Crows were cuddly until one came into our lives, either.

Undoubtedly, she won't poop because the closeness creates hightened awareness of my presence, but it also puts her in a physical position in which she would not naturally, usually be when relieving herself, standing up, or close to another being. The third thing, is that she feels safest when I hold her closely, and she likes being held in a warm embrace which reminds her of her mother warmly nestling on her in the nest, so maybe she does not want to ruin the vibe?

Conversely, she poops when she feels insecure, worried, afraid, or vulnerable. One might think that my shoulder would be just the spot to feel safest, and slowly, it is getting to be, but not quite yet. Fig still thinks the cat can jump up on my shoulder. She still feels a little uneasy having more freedom all around the house, too, hence the hazards of letting her perch on my shoulder. But, I carry on letting her perch on me for longer and longer, and she is slowly requesting to sit on me more and more, for longer and longer, and getting better and better at notifying me when she needs to go to the bathroom. But, we are still ironing out the pooping issue somewhat.

She has made it very clear to me that she prefers to poop from her perch rather than using the toilet. This is something we are going to need to talk more about as the idea is eventually to get rid of her "room" entirely, so she would no longer have the perch she prefers for toileting. I have to find someway to make the bathroom a more favorable option.

As I was saying, something interesting happened the other day though. As usual, I was sitting with Fig in my lap. She decided she wanted to venture up on my shoulder. She is quite clear about communicating things like where she would like to be. Really? I complained. She was unusually insistent about it. Okay, I said but don't poop. She does understand the word poop. She will poop on command. In fact, she is so used to this, she usually will not agree to handling until after she has pooped first, as she knows this makes me very happy, and like a real kid, she aims to get praise from her parent.

Now, what happened next is very hard to explain, because I cannot put it into words, so you will have to take me word for it. Fig told me, I promise not to poop. Her communication consists of gutteral errs and gurgles, and gestures, so I can't transpose exactly what she "said", but I could tell she was saying, "I understand, and I promise to be a good girl, if you let me sit up on your shoulder." So, I let her sit up there for a couple of hours, making bathroom breaks when she indicated, and everything went smoothly. Amazing! That has rarely happened before, that we had such a moment of complete understanding, and compliance with my wishes, when she is up on my shoulder. It was a magical, breakthrough moment, sort of like those moments one has with one's children, only way more Dr. Doolittle-esque. Recently, my son, all of his own accord, folded all of his dirty clothes, before taking a shower, and placed them on the washing machine. Crazy, right! It was like this. Kids sometimes, magically, when you are not expecting it, develop and exhibit earth shattering initiative after years and years of constant nagging, just when you've about given up hope. Crows too!

Of course, the very next day, my son's clothes were back, scattered all over the floor of the house. And Fig pooped on me again, apparently forgetting all the success, and progress she'd made the day before. Fortunately, I know it takes time. We'll keep at it.

We really want to get Fig out of her "room" and fully integrated into family life for afternoons and evenings. We've considered a cage. We've considered a perch. But really, the only sensible way to integrate a Crow into a human family is to give that Crow freedom, and independence first. A perch of her own, or a cage would probably allow her to feel safer out in the common areas. But freedom to jump about from person to person is great exercise, and social interaction. Giving a naturally phobic bird like a Crow an "out" so to speak, a safe spot, will likely keep her socially, and physically inactive, forever. So for now, the perch, and the cage are off the table. Fig is going to have to succeed at feeling comfortable on/with people in the common areas first. We are going to "be" the perches. Once she passes this hurdle, she'll get her own cage to retreat to ask she likes.

Communicating with a Crow is not unlike communicating with children. You have to have routines. You have to repeat yourself, without nagging. You have to have clear expectations. And most of all, you must not forget to praise, praise, praise...this is a most powerful tool. And rewards are good too, but nothing trumps praise.


 

On Peanut Butter

Just want to write this down before I forget.

When Fig was younger, I used to give her bread with peanut butter, but I had to be extremely careful to only give her the slightest, thinnest spead peanut butter imaginable because she had a habit of wolfing down bread in big chunks in order to make a dash for her perch with it, and if it had peanut butter on it, the bread would surely lodge in her beak or throat where it would likely cause her to choke to death.

Now-a-days, I am still extremely cautious when I feed Fig peanut butter, but I probably do not need to be. She has long since learned that it is hazardous eating, and she now nibbles away at bread with peanut butter very gingerly out of caution, and sometimes, if the bread is not all that great, all she wants to eat is the good part with the peanut butter on it. It's like she's eating the topping off of pizza. Anyway, there are things like this which I now take for granted, but I never expected to witness Fig learning. It's just entertaining minutia, but it does demonstrate how clever Crows are.

Peas and Corn

My wife was feeding peas and corn to Fig the other day.  Fig loves corn, but she is not a huge fan of peas. In fact to get her to eat them I have to mince them up, and mix them into rice with a bit of fish or chicken.

Anyway, my wife was offering Fig a corn. And Fig would take it, and say thank you.

Then she was offering her a pea, and Fig would stand there, and shake her head, no thanks.

So this was giving my wife a good laugh.

Then my wife started offering Fig a pea in one hand, and a corn in the other with some distance between, and switching hands.

Of course, Fig was choosing the corn every time, and neglecting the peas.

This scientific method game my wife was engaged in is something that just happens naturally when you live with a Crow. One of the many reasons it is fun to have Fig in our family is because she is such a clear communicator, as in this instance.

Another example, is when Fig does not want to do something. For example, if she does not want to watch TV, she will simply refuse to cuddle. She'll jump to a chair, or my shoulder, or my knee, but she will not agree to come in close for sit still, hug time.  I always listen if she expresses for any reason that she is not up for something. It is not a good idea to boss a bird around.

Fig can clearly communicate that she doesn't want, or that she wants, and with pretty exacting specificity. And she can initiate the activity she wants to do, be that a shower together, playing, or cuddling.

Now, our cat will bring a ball, and ask repeatedly to have it tossed. And the cat can ask for food, though not for water. And the cat can initiate intimacy, too, but she doesn't differentiate between talk time, petting, cuddling or a shower (which she would never ask for) with such clarity or success.  So there is simply a higher level of communication going on with the Crow than the kitty, and much of that success lies in the fact that the bird is simply more vocal, more engaged through eye contact all of the time, and generally tuned in to communicating constantly. Predators on the other hand spend most of their time lounging, sunbathing, sleeping, and resting up for their next sprint after the cat bowl.

Don't get me wrong. I love our cat equally as much as the Crow, and the cat is well aware of this. This is why the cat gets jealous if I spend time with the Crow. The Crow, however, never seems to get too jealous if I spend time with the cat. She just looks at me quizically, as if to say, You can't be serious?

All animals express a full range of moods, states of mind, states of being, states of energy, and their desires, and needs; we have only to be better listeners, and better communicators. It is very important to make regular time to touch, play, cuddle, talk, relax, and connect with our animals; doing so benefits us as much, if not more, than them. Our relationships with animals are few, and fleeting since we've come indoors, away from nature. It is natural to have relationships, friendships, connections, conversations, interactions with animals. We have forgotten that to a large extent. This is one of the saddest things about modern times, because once we lose that connection, we lose respect, we lose love, and eventually, we will lose the animals, and then most assuredly our very selves.

Toilet Training

I have read that toilet training a Crow is impossible. But I managed to toilet train a lovebird in the past, so I cannot imagine that toilet training a Crow is going to be harder than that. But actually, I don't have as much time to work with Fig as I did with my lovebird who practically lived on my shoulder. Fig is two and a half now, and is still learning to transition into living more centrally in our house. Change happens very incrementally with her. She spends more and more time on my shoulder as I wander around the house, but she is never there for more than five minutes continuously because she will poop on me if she remains there.

There are a number of reasons for this:

1. The shoulder is not her main perch, so she is still uncertain about it.
2. The house is not her main room, so she is uncertain about being in newer places.
3. She is high, at the hight of her usual perch, so it feels natural to just go.
4. I don't scold her if she goes on me. Instead I praise her for communication, and this approach takes longer, but has much better long term results.

Now, that being said, Fig is now 100% lap trained, and lap potty trained. She never poops on my lap, and she sits to watch TV with us for an hour sometimes without saying she needs a break. On her perch she would never come close to holding a movement for anywhere near that long. And she communicates 100% effectively if she needs to go, when she is in my lap. She nestles in the palm of my hand, and when she needs to go, she simply looks up towards my face, and says, Errr. Then she very obediently waits until she is returned to her main perch to go. Usually, I give her a bathroom break every 15-20 minutes, for her health, but if I don't she can easily go an hour before she will start jumping about like a kindergartener in line for the potty.

The next step is to get her to understand that there is no difference between the lap, and the shoulder by letting her flit from lap to shoulder at will to draw an association, and connection between the two. Already I can see this happening as her shouldered behavior is getting better and better, and accidents are fewer, and fewer. It just takes practice and exposure.

Practice means that Fig must be praised loads and loads for successfully communicating her need to go. And getting her used to the house to a very high degree by walking around, asking her to go to various places to raise her comfort level, praising her for doing so, a lot, and asking if she needs to go to the bathroom. She actually will go to the bathroom on command on her perch or in the bathroom, even trying if she doesn't immediately need to go, so mainly the problem lies in helping her overcome her territorial nerves in spaces that she does not feel are really her spaces to inhabit.

I expect full toilet training to be completed within another six months. She is making very fast strides at communicating these days, and her confidence is way up. I carry her around the house with very high confidence that she won't have any accidents, and I no longer use a bucket in case of accidents because it's not necessary.

Toilet training a bird is not a one way thing. There has to be connection, and two way communication. If the bird poops on you, it is because you failed, not the bird. You did not notice, hear, or see something which you should have recognized, reacted to, and praised to encourage. Birds are not cats and dogs. They usually follow your lead, and if you don't act as a pair, they don't have a functioning partner. You can toilet train them, but you have to at least start by getting them to their preferred toileting place, at first.
  

The Game of Go

I have been playing Go for a number of years, but only recently did I decide to teach it to my kid.

It occurred to me in the midst of explanations that the rules, or the object of the game rather, has some uncanny similarities to the territorial behavior or strategies Jungle Crow families may exhibit. This got me wondering if perhaps ancient ornithologists, thousands of years ago might have been inspired to make a game based on the natural laws of corvid behavior they observed in the wild.

It is merely a whimsical observation, but I have run it by the experts just out of curiosity as the more I think about it, the more I become convinced.  I will report what, if anything they report to back to me.

One wonders how abundant Jungle Crows were in China four thousand years ago. Hmmm.

I have also come up with a working hypothesis and experiment to help prove my assumption that the game was inspired by Crow behavior:

Hypothesis: Go, or Igo (as it is called in Japan) was inspired by watching wild Crows. The game is based strongly on their natural territorial, family group behavior.  While Crows share a lot of behavioral similarities with humans, fundamentally, I believe, they have an all together different character which directs their individula and family/group behavior. Therefore, I hypothesize that if you give two humans who are totally unfamiliar with Go, a Go set, and ask them to play around, and invent an adversarial game, where one person must win, and one must lose, or at least a tie can be reached, they will not manage to come up with the game of Go because their human character will lead them to invent, and follow rules, and take actions which are different from what a Crow would do.  

 

Taming Fig

Taming Fig has been a challenge. I have all the usual time constraints of a full-time worker, and parent. I have a young kid, and a cat in the house. And Fig by her very nature, is the most wild, crazy, neurotic animal ever in existence.

So, while I am my own worst critic, I feel I must congratulate myself on the progress Fig has made considering less than ideal circumstances for taming a wild Jungle Crow. Fig is certainly deserving of tons of praise for how far she has come. Integrating into a human family is no easy transition for a wild bird, and she has the additional, and unusual reality to face, that her bird family is right outside with her, every day, tugging away at her heartstrings, creating what must, at times, be a sea of confusing emotions for poor Figgy. 

Yet she manages to thrive. 

Outside she elects to stay and chat with family as much as she likes. And that is nice for her. And when she comes in, she simply switches gears completely, to life with humans, and a cat.
She seems to live this dual life successfully. 

Recently, Fig has much more confidence with the cat. She deliberately engages in chases around the house which rarely result in much fearful squawking, usually none at all. But it is scary to watch! It is very hard to trust a cat. If the cat ever does scare her a bit too much, I am always there to intervene, and Fig just leaps to me for immediate safety. Quite often the two of them pile up face to face, and the resulting awkward silence, and stunned faces is just hilarious. Neither can figure out what to do next. Fig very deliberately goes looking for the cat, to get a good high speed chase going. And she has virtually  no issues coming to the living room to sit and watch TV now either. She can sit on her own on the back of a chair, or snuggle in my lap. She never poops on me. She will easily sit an hour before asking to go to the bathroom.  Her confidence is way, way up compared to six months ago. And it keeps on improving, which is good, because she can still improve quite a bit. You cannot push it, you just have to wait for her to decide she is ready for a new comfort zone boundary expansion...and then one day, it happens.  I just hold her loosely, and let her wander out onto my knee or a chair, or my shoulder, then gesture her to come back, and she does, or maybe she doesn't, being rascally and playful. She obviously understands that pooping in the house is a no-no, but she can still do it from time to time if something startles, or scares her.  She has jumped on my wife's things many times, but never once had an accident on her things, probably because my wife goes, 'Oh no, Figgy, no, no, no...Please.' in that gentle voice of hers which Fig likes. Fig is a very good listener, and she understands what stuff is whose to an amazing degree. I assure you, if Fig had pooped on my wife's things, that would be the end of her living room adventures, and probably my life. I have a lot of confidence in Fig. Teaching a young boy, and a cat to move slowly is the truly hard part, so Fig usually comes out to sit with me. More and more she understands that I do, and will protect her. This is obviously more a human than a Crow thing, but it is very welcome to see that she understands this to a greater and greater extent as time goes by. This aspect of our relationship carries over to the world outside as well, though she tends to be more independent when we go to the park, because she wants to chat with her family, play on her own a bit, explore, and push boundaries, or hang out with utter strangers for some reason. She is a kid. 

Her affection has blossomed too. She snuggles, and sleeps in my lap. She is fine with dry pets now, not only being given affection while having her face washed in the shower anymore. She likes to sit in my lap, put one foot in my hand, exactly as though we are holding hands, then she will nestle down into the cup of my hand and chill. She enjoys TV, or Chess, and plays with Go stones a bit, and she is not afraid to help herself to any snacks that happen to be out. In the shower she baths herself in her bath right next to me, and chats away heartily, and singing a wide array of calls, and dancing a bit. Her array of songs is amazing, and from time to time she does a call which I have not heard in months. More and more, she asks for affection time together out in the living room, though. She does this by tearing away at her perch cover, pecking it, pulling it, tugging away at it, and leaping back and forth while elevating her chest, which is clearly the bird version if waving one's arms. That means, Hey, someone come and get me! She won't usually vocalize a desire for affection. I wonder if that is because there is no Crow vocalization for Hey, come cuddle me? She will vocalize annoyance or irritation however, if ignored. This gestural communication seems somewhat universal to animals including humans when we are at a lack for words. Dogs and cats do the same, as will parrots, hamsters, or even fish pacing back and forth to indicate uncontrolled anticipation. 

Fig has become much more forgiving, too. For example, from time to time, I trim and file her eight toenails down because she cannot have natural wood perches. This makes it easier for her to jump about on fabric covered perches without accidentally snagging a foot, or toe and breaking a leg or a wing. Fig is not a big fan of this maintenance. If I am not careful, I can really upset her. But she forgets all about it once the deed is done, and she returns to her usual trusting, affectionate self. There are no longer two weeks of grudge, resentment, and anxiety over a bit of what amounts to a seriously gentle manhandling. More like two minutes, if that. Oh, she will growl, and maybe bite, or peck if she thinks I want to start all over again  but once I tell her, don't fret,  it is done, she goes right back to being a lovey dovey, fluffing up in relief. 

All this progress is fantastic to witness. Fig is finally settled in. She just needs a bit more confidence before she'll have achieved full autonomy as a mobile member of the family with run of the house.  One must be very aware and careful as a hot stove, mirror, and windows present a constant danger. It is very important to teach a bird about hot places, mirrors, and windows. I have even learned that screendoors cannot always be seen, and after many years of being a bird person, I did not know that.

. 

Thoughts on (Human) Learning

It occurs to me, that so many things we know, and do are the result of serendipity.
I mean agriculture, wine, yogurt, leavened bread, penicillin, etc...

And you can add learning to that list. Because playing around in hopes of discovering something useful, is indeed something we discovered serendipitously. Yet, it is astonishing, knowing this especially, how unplayful learning in school is still, these days.

When I watch the wild Crows, I wonder sometimes if they are doing something which they learned, by accident, or by direct instruction from other Crows.

I think, if you are a Crow watcher, this is a very important question to keep warm on the back burner.
1. What are they doing?
2. Is this a repeat? If so, is it a repeat because they learned from an accident, or instruction?

For example, when Crows toss fruits down from the tree, are they cultivating or agriculturing?
Have they learned that bugs, and maggots will infest the fruits on the ground? That fruits will later ripen or ferment on the ground? That other animals will come like pigeons or mice? That new fruit will sprout forth upon the tree again? That it is a form of hoarding/caching? That they can later collect and hide the fruit without competition present? That competition will leave town if they find bare trees?

What exactly motivates their annual behaviors? Have they learned it? Learned from it? Been taught it? Taught it to others? How do their observations and experiences guide their behavior?

These are questions we should ask of ourselves as well. These are questions we should teach our children to ask. Why? Because there are so many things we don't know yet, and cannot appreciate until we hurry up and get to knowing them.

Do Crows do family planning?
Socializing?
Agriculture?
Hunting?
Gathering?
Playing?
Cooperation?
Teamwork?

Yes! But how much of that was learnt from observation? How much taught?

On the flip side...what ain't they managed to learn, or learn quickly, or learn well? And why?
This is a good one to answer about ourselves.

Quick Update on Fig

Ah the world of Fig is an interesting one. Let's see...real quick entry. Riiiiiiiight.

Fig's Mom is a regular visitor now. She visits every morning and throughout the day. She ate a hole in the roof on Fig's balcony and brought Fig some food presents, which she leave on the roof, rather than putting them into the hole she made.. Fig is awful lazy in the morning as I have her on our family bedtime, and she prefers to sleep in her warm, insulated, dark, sound insulated sleeper box until 10-11am, sometimes later. When the mother visits in the morning Fig will answer her calls very loudly from inside the box without bothering to emerge, lazy thing. Anyway, she is better off on our schedule as she gets a lot more social interaction time than when I was putting her to bed shortly after sundown and waking up at 7am. As long as she can sleep well for a solid 12 hours per night then she is fit as a fiddle. For a while there, I thought Fig's parents were working on a rescue plan, but I think local food is plentiful in this season, and their other kids are off socializing so Fig is just nice for them to have around to chat with, especially for her mother it seems. I have never given them food, and Fig cannot have physical contact with them, but they certainly maintain close social ties, and communicate daily which is very nice for lonely Figgy who picks up new seasonal vocabulary which she then tries to teach to me.

Fig is very affectionate now. She not only sings to me, but dances too, wiggling her tail wildly, raising her "arms", fluffying up, sticking out her neck, blinking wildly, and a whole assortment of calls, noises, mimicks, growls, gurgles and the such. She and I will play growl right in each others faces and I am sure if any other person on earth were to experience this it would frighten them rather well. Fig is not afraid to voice a disagreement about anything and she can growl like a Tiger if she wants to; it is impressive, but she means to do absolutely no harm; she is as gentle as a lamb, and sweet as candy. She always says thank you, and I love you, and gushes gratitude never ending. I gave her mealworms with a bit of cheese tonight, which she had not had in a few days, and she just went made lovey gushing appreciation.

She does not hate the cat, but she cannot overcome her fear of the cat. She has become a great lap Crow now in spite of the cat, however. She sits on my knee for 30 minutes enjoying TV, a game of chess, or classical music before she requests a bathroom break. Generally her behavior at home, and at the park continues to just get better and better. I am very proud of her. Crows are afraid of everything, and anything but Fig has learned to trust me very deeply, even when confronting a serious fear. The other day, a new robe which she had never seen was hanging up in the bathroom. She was on my shoulder, and the anxiety about it boiled over and she flew off and had a major run all over the house...that is how Crows are, anxiety builds until a breaking point at which point they take flight. Anyway, she ran all over the house, a real full tour (you know, she milks it, she really, really milks it) leaping over the cat a few times in route, but very dutifully not pooping anywhere as she knows that's a nono, eventually bounding back to me, to confront the new robe again having dispelled a bit of anxiety. Once I let her peck it a few times, it faded into the wallpaper. We go through this routine with anything new, or out of place, be it a sock, one of her own feathers (especially feathers are to be feared or worried over), or anything too close to her space. She will make a big racket about anything suspicious until I either reassure, reeducate, or shoosh her, which I seldom do as it is far more interesting to have a conversation with the phobic anxiety case so I can figure out exactly what's got her anxious. She certainly has an eye for minute detail, and naturally plays a game of Spot the Difference in her environment.

Fig's daily need to vent is incredible, and seems to get a few seconds longer every day. She'll go on for ten minutes sometimes. She needs to tell me what is on her mind a couple of times a day minimum. This means she talks, and I just listen, and pretend to understand everything. When she is satisfied, she fluffs up, and quiets down. This is a vitally important routine to maintain her mental health. I sort of understand the topic, or the gist of her utterances, but I'm lost on the details. It's generally something along the lines of:  I talked to my Mom today in the morning did you see her? Man, am I in a super mood,  I slept fairly well, but did you hear that motorcycle last night? Heck of loud or what! Today's food was pretty good. I'm not complaining, but you forgot to give me some peanut butter. You know that, right? It was damn hot this afternoon, huh? Why were you five minutes late getting home by the way? You didn't forget me right? God damn it I love you, have you got any roast beef in the fridge? All done, fluff, preen.

So Fig is doing super. Healthy, clean, happy, well loved, played with, and socialized. Bless her little heart, she's a dear sweet birdie.

The mealworm farm is a success, but I need to upscale. A crow can eat a lot of mealworms, and the buggers grow very slowly. I want to do a series of serious intelligence experiments with Fig, but I have had to postpone all until next year when the mealworms are in better supply. Too pricey to buy. Hopefully I will have 50 beetles to lay eggs soon if winter doesn't kill them all first. And to think I started with only 9.

Well...more later?
1. How do we play together?
2. What am I training her to do?
3. Where did I get with APHIS/USDA, F&W, F&G, in regards to a possession permit? Nowhere. There is a ban on imports of any and all wild birds from Japan right now. I want to write in depth about this. Alas, life illegal goes on... I am very dismayed about the fact that I can go on line with a credit card and buy a permit to kill, or maim just about any living creature, but the minute I want to care for one, and show it love, and compassion, and some quality of life, then I'm an instant outlaw. I truly cannot get the world sometimes, especially the inanity resulting from bureaucrazy. Who wants to live in a world where it is a crime to seek out understanding,  to empathize, or exhibit compassion? It ought to be illegal not to do those things.
 














 

How Crows Play Soccer

I spent a while just enjoying and observing the local Crows feeding in the trees today. They are marvelous fun to watch and listen to, especially so when there are several dozen or more active at once. A large part of the entertainment value in watching Crows is the fact that their behavior and language is so diverse, and while these creatures are ever present around us day to day, they remain so mysterious. Why? How do they do this?

One thing that I suppose might occur to anyone inclined to sit a while and endure the cacophonic chorus of Crows is that they all seem to have the same name, Ah! I am half joking but it does seem so.

Engage with me in bit of fantasy if you will. Imagine that you are watching a soccer game. Now imagine that everyone on both teams has the same name, let’s say, Joe (Yes, yes, Joe is slow of course). This might make for a bit of a confusing game, not only to watch, but especially to play, don’t you think? Everyone simultaneously yelling Joe, Joe, Joe!!!! But let’s go a step further. Let’s give everyone on both teams the exact same uniform. Ah yes, now we’re talking; play on words intended. In this scenario, the best way for team-mates to keep cohesion, and a flow of useful communication is to, well, communicate, constantly, like Crows. Everyone's voices are quite different, for humans or Crows and voices serve as great jerseys. This feels like it might be an apt analogy for what’s going on.

But the Crow’s are not yelling out their team-mates’ names, as in Sam, it’s me, over here; Pass the ball to me!!!! I think they are identifying themselves to their team-mates, and the identifier is their unique voice. It’s as if the soccer players are all yelling out their own names, or simply making their position, presence, state of awareness, or alarm all known by the sound, tone, volume, pitch, etc.., of their unique voices. What a novel idea! Coaches take note. I mean that is some pretty high level team unity if you can know your teammates by their voices when they make a brief utterance like Ah! right? It makes for fast play, and it requires all players to up their level of awareness.

Further opposite still, there is no ball to pass in the Crows’ game. The goal is a large tree, and the object is not to get a ball into the tree, but to take balls, or fruits, out. Let’s call this game, reccos, or raucous, because it is exactly the opposite of soccer, and in order to play it well, you do need to make a lot of constant noise, well, you need to communicate your presence and position constantly anyway; I don't think you can label rich communication "noise" which is largely random.

I think I observed a few different strategies for playing the game, but it is hard to tell how accurate my perceptions are because I can’t tell the players apart, except by voice, a lot of the action is obstructed by the trees, and I have no idea how many players, or teams there are. One thing seems pretty certain, however, there do not appear to be any rules per se, though it appears that injury avoidance is a general ethic at work. Anyway, here is what I think I observed:

Strategy One: One big burly Crow gets into the fruiting tree. His team-mates circle about chasing off other team’s members who encroach, be they of another clan, family, or friendly gang…I have no idea. The guy in the tree pulls off as much fruit as possible tossing it to the forest floor. Later this team alternates foraging on the forest floor to collect the dropped fruit, and guarding for one another again. This seems like an efficient strategy, though pigeons manage to pick up a fair amount of the bounty, and you may not be able to count on your friends to guard you while you eat once they are full.

Strategy Two: The silent team. I notice the silent strategy employers tend to be in smaller groups, like Ninjas or Navy Seals. They silently take posts on different sides of the goal tree. One will sneak in to score. When he is driven off, another one takes his chance to dive in for a fruit. It is a multi-prong offensive.

Strategy Three: The false offensive. A group of Crows will sweep in feigning an offensive, drawing a lot of attention from defenders who take chase. While they are gone, their team takes advantage to score.

Strategy Four: The false plot. The different teams are calling to have an auditory-visual, if you will, on their own team’s effective, defensive cohesion. When another team sits together in close proximity and makes a very loud ruckus, then the team with control of the tree feels threatened and may break ranks to go break the seemingly overwhelmingly threatening cohesion the other team seems to be amassing.  

Strategy Five:  The blitz. Speaks for itself. A looser similar strategy seems to be the half-hearted blitz, or mayhem. Once most of your team is getting full, it’s hard to keep them motivated.

Strategy Six:  Get the general. This is when one or more members of another team aggressively target the tree squatter and try to drive him out and take possession of the goal tree.

One interesting thing is the call given by the bird in the goal tree, I guess we could call this bird the goalie, though it is really the goaler. This bird issues a rather unique, motivational call totally different and unique from the defenders Ah calls.

Anyway, I thought it might be fun to ask two soccer teams to try playing a game in the same uniforms where they could only call out their own names, to see what might be learned about the Crow’s perspective, and strategies for team success. Maybe soccer players could learn something useful from the Crows as well?
 

Of Late...

Recent news:

I have not posted in some time. Just been busy. Fig is doing very well though. Keeping her fed, watered, bathed, emotionally happy, and with healthy feet requires a tremendous amount of consistent dedication. Food, water, and baths are routine for me now. Fig baths herself, of course, but she insists that I bath her too. Bathing is apparently a collective, social affair with Crows.

Recently, I am learning the most about Fig’s emotional, and psychological needs which are quite demanding as well. She is approaching 3-years of age, and is definitely going through the middle stages of bird puberty. She sings romantically to me as always, and proclaims her love in English, and in Crow language never ending in the usual ways, but most recently she has started doing a more serious mating dance as well. She squats down and vibrates her tail wildly, getting all blinky eyed and sultry. She is obviously heating things up, but I know from experience with other birds, that things are going to get much steamier as time goes on. Thankfully winter is on the way, so she ought to chill out for a few months. Next Spring will be a hot-spring of hormones, and begging displays for sure. As long as she doesn’t tear the house apart to make a nest it shouldn’t be too much of a bother because this new mating dance routine is virtually silent.

 

Fig’s emotional bond with me continues to deepen, and enrich. She enjoys lap cuddles, hugs, being carried around, sleeping in an embrace upside down, sideways, or lounging on one arm on her stomach, watching TV on my knee, pets, strokes, leg massages, scratches, gentle touches to her face, face washes, preening, and even long kisses on the neck or head. Any feeling of danger of her gauging out my eyeballs that I may have felt in intimate proximity with her two years ago has long since vanished from my silly mind. Her (probably unnatural) affinity for lots of intimate affection continues to develop and grow. This is a very slow process, and I am curious to see how far she will progress in learning, and appreciating “human” affection. The only time Fig ever shows any “aggression” is when she is sleepy, she gets a bit growly if she wants to bed down without being disturbed, but even this bedtime grouchiness is almost totally gone. She enjoys kisses, and soft pets even when she is dropping off, these days. As a passage bird, she came to me fully fledged, and even though I got her the very day she left the nest, at four-six weeks of age, she was by then hardwired to be a very independent individual making her way in the world, and she still displays this character; it keeps her safe because her mentality is very much to look out for herself, but more and more, she bonds with me, and it shows in little progressions in every environment. She sits with me in the living room, no longer dashing around playfully anymore, except very rarely. If she falls off my knee, or hand, her immediate reaction is to jump right back to me now, rather than hopping all around in a panic before finding a chair. She stays very close at the park too, and while she will lead me around from fence post to fence post, bench to tree, she never makes any attempt to “fly away”. I let her have her freedom, though I keep a long tether attached to her ankles in case a dog or cat shows up, or a hawk, or she decides to go investigating and mapping her surroundings which is very much her instinct and right to do. She understands if I pull the tether gently, that that means she has reached the invisible perimeter beyond which Dad simply does not feel comfortable because of cars, or cyclists, or some danger which she trusts me to alert her to. I let her have as much freedom as I can, and try not to stifle her, sitting together, much like a pair of birds would do, non-challantly. She is, aside from her emotional attachment to me, and a long unanchored tether, a free and wild bird when we go out. The tether continues to get shorter over time, but very, very incrementally, as Fig occasionally gets up to the most rambunctious bits of mischief which sometimes pose the risk of serious danger to her. I suspect I will have her fully untethered in another two or three years at the rate that she is maturing, and “obeying”.  Right now, she still has the ability to act very much like a three year old child when she has a mind to. One simply does not expect to have to wait for a bird to grow up somehow, but that is exactly what I find myself doing. So, it is a long, patient parenting process, but like parenting human children, the rewards are priceless and never stop coming. More than her “mate”, more than my pet, or “child” though, my true feeling which I think Fig shares, is that we are friends, and I will never let her down.

Instead of Vitamins?

Giving birds vitamins is sort of a slippery slope. I prefer not to give vitamin supplements to Fig because it feels like an excuse to give her lower quality food, also it makes her too hyperactive, and it's a pain to dose out.  But because I cannot exactly wander into a local grocery, or pet store and pick up a bag of Crow kibble, or corvid chow in Japan, nutrition is something that I pay extremely careful attention to day to day, and meal to meal, actually nibble to nibble. It is not easy to tell if a bird is getting good, or proper nutrition even when paying careful regular attention to its energy level, talkativeness, mood, posture, and of course physical indicators like plumage, weight, color, nail and foot condition, , and also by examining waste (not my favorite), etc… It is important to maintain a very close, day to day relationship, and routine with birds so as not to overlook any developing health issues which can arise and manifest quickly, or slowly over a long period of time. I find that giving vitamin supplements to birds can dramatically increase their energy levels, which again, makes me feel like they are healthier, but in the case of caged, captive, or handicapped birds, such as Fig’s case, higher energy is not necessarily the best idea for the bird as it increases wear and tear on her already overworked feet, and injured wing. Still, I do want her to get proper nutrition, so I am sure to give her a very healthy diet. But what is that? It is a never ending study finding the answers, especially with wild, supposedly omnivorous birds.

Two foods I have been giving her which seem to have an equal effect on her cheeriness as vitamin supplements are bran and germ of rice, wheat, oats and barley, and they don't make her so hyperactive.  Mostly I rely on wheat germ, and rice bran which are also feed for her mealworms that I farm. But again, I have no data on how much, or even if these foods are suitable for Crows. I try to listen to what Fig has to say about food, but that is not always a good idea. She will eat worms, and they can give her internal parasites, so she is not fed those. Likewise with uncooked grasshoppers.  She’ll also eat as many French fries as you care to dish out, but too much starch quickly gives her constipation, and gas. I roll her protein, meat or egg, in rice bran, and she seems to love it, as she will spend loads of time carefully nibbling it off and enjoying the sweet flavor. The extra fiber helps rid her of any chance of constipation too.

So, while I have little idea how suitable these foods are for a Crow, to date, they seem to be a very nutritious way to boost her mood, and overall physical health without making her super hyperactive which is the problem I get with vitamins. I also eliminate the problem of administering a regular dose as it is much easier to regulate what amount she eats, than drinks, of something. I know she is getting lots of B vitamins from these two foods because they turn her urine quite yellow.  The boost to her talkativeness is most dramatic and noticable. The nice thing about the rice bran is that it comes with eggshell powder included so it’s a calcium and potassium supplement all in one.

If anyone has any info on rice bran and wheat germ as food for birds of any sort, please inform me, thank you. I eat these foods myself, too, and they have a noticeable effect on my daily brain pep, so I recommend them to people. A quarter cup of rice bran in milk is good fiber, and nutrition for people, that’s for sure; it just tastes like sweet, slightly mushy cereal; it's quite yummy. It is also very cheap, which I am thankful for because here in Japan it is white rice all the time, so I can afford to put the nutrition back on my rice for one dollar for a nice size bag of rice bran. Germ is a bit pricier.  

How Cautious is a Crow?

I put a vertical bar in Fig’s enclosed space where she gets a lot of her daily exercise. When she goes on excursions around town, from time to time, she will leap onto ladders, and railings, and other totally upright bars, just for a bit of climbing or sliding fun, and to show off her amazing foot strength. And, in order to encourage her to actually start jumping on to the vertical bar I installed on the wall in her space, I placed a huge slab of delicious dried crab meat at the top. In order to get the crab meat, which she loves, she will have to leap to the vertical bar, and perch on it. It’s easy for her. The bar is only mounted slightly above her regular perch height, and it only extends 60cm up, so maybe the top is about 20-30 centimeters above Fig’s head. And the perch is only 30 centimeters from her perch, so she only needs to jump a very short way from the horizontal perch to the vertical wall perch. That crab meat has been there for two weeks now. I even tried reducing her daily dish quantity to let her work up a bit of an appetite. No deal. This is how nervous, suspicious, cautious, skeptical, inquisitive…paranoid Crows are. Very, very. It is just a simple wooden perch, which looks exactly like a towel bar, only vertical, and she will not venture onto it, not even for a big slab of crab. I am going to have to have a go at asking her to leap onto it I think. She actually may never touch the thing for years. I even started her out with an inclined perch to transition her, still, she sees the potential for danger, or injury, or maybe she tried it once when I wasn't there and detected a tiny, fearsome bit of a wobble, so leapt right off again. The thing is darn solid folks. Crows simply will not take any risks. It’s amazing, huh? Two weeks that savory crab meat, just sitting there within easy reach. It stone cold flabbergasts me every day when I come home to find it still there.

Raising the Young

I have had unusually abundant opportunities to observe mothers and fathers with their young this year. Feeding, preening, and talking to them intimately. Defending them, too. I'll try and write a few observations at a later time.

I had one long chance to observe the intimate communication, and preening of a known mother with her one offspring from a mere 15-20 feet away, for almost ten minutes from below, to one side. It was the perfect spot because the mother was paying attention to the young one to her right, and I was left, and behind her. It was a great chance to learn a lot about how to mother a baby Crow. The chatter is fascinating stuff. The preening, and encouragement is very touching to observe. Unfortunately, when the mother hopped a 180, she saw me observing her, recognized me instantly from the forest, was surprised to see me downtown (a quarter mile away), and immediately swooped down into the tree I was under. She tried to poop on me, growled a bit, tore off and tossed down a couple of small branches from the tree, then reattended to her baby. Had she not know me, she would have just ignored the attentions as that of just another person on the sidewalk; she would not have cared at all as there were dozen of people out on the sidewalk. I suspect she could have easily successfully pooped on me, growled more vociferously, and chucked down much larger branches, but she knows me, and I read her message as very simply and straight forwardly, "Buzz off you bothersome man! How dare you stare at me and my kid." and that seems entirely reasonable, doesn't it? Crows are, in fact, darn reasonable creatures.

Delayed Satisfaction/Family Planning

I've read that cultures which practice forms of delayed satisfaction have higher rates of some other beneficial bologna. For example, in Japan, everyone parks their cars backwards. I have no idea what benefit this bestows upon this culture, but as an American it drives me totally insane because just park the damn car already.

Anyway, having Fig has taught me that Crows have quite a high level ability to delay satisfaction, suppress impulsive behavior, or plan for the future, depending on how you look at what they are up to. For example, it is not at all uncommon for Fig to let herself go hungry if she knows that I am coming home soon, and I may have something yummier in tow, than what she has in her food bowl. She is quite capable of rejecting food which she likes very much when she is hungry, if she suspects we have left over roast beef still in the fridge (we never have left over roast beef because there are no regular ovens in Japan, but just for example). Her ability to suppress her hunger, her impulse to satisfy her hunger, to bet on something better is remarkably strong. And she not only stashes food, but stashes the good stuff for later, "planning for the future?" or at least saving for a rainy day. I would say these impulses are stronger than they are in humans. In fact, it seems to be a characteristic of Crows to exhibit this savings account behavior. Maybe being wispy little balls of feathers and bones is more precarious than being obese tubs of lard, and this behavior affords them a bit of needed insurance by measuring out resources over time. Hunger might kill a meesly bird in days, where plump humans could go weeks.

Anyway, this behavior got me thinking what else Crows might be delaying, suppressing, saving, in order to plan for the future. This year, three Crow families in my area have all produced only one off spring. That got me wondering if Crows exhibit the ability, for whatever reason, to do family planning? Either by culling eggs from the nest (abortion), or abandoning eggs all together for a season (infanticide), I cannot even suspect they would consider canibalism, or maybe they can even physically decide how many eggs to lay, or fertilize.  Questions, questions???? Perhaps they would do something like this due to overpopulation of their territory, or food shortage, or other environmental stress. Maybe reproductive pairs just want a break after raising 6 young the previous two years running.

I have no idea if they do this. It is just a question that occurred to me. It seems like a possibility given their natural inclination, and ability to ration food.

Mum and Dad's Amazing Devotion

Fig's Mom and Dad have recently lost a bit of interest in me. They have stopped showing up when I am off to work, or coming home. It is a good thing because it was only a matter of time before I crashed my bicycle with my head in the air. And they no longer show as much vocal interest when I am out with Fig at the park. They do circle over, and call, just not as excitedly. Fig's Dad, surprisingly, is the real interested party lately. It was for so long the mother that was the excited one, only dragging the Dad along for the show. It still absolutely astounds me the level of recognition, interest, support, and gentle love this pair still have for their daughter, two years after having lost her on her day of fledging from the nest. I mean, they know her, they think about her, they watch over her, they check on her, they are there for her, chatting, and visiting, and staying around, though they have all but utterly lost her to her injury. It is nothing short of moving, and very sweet to witness.

I usually pay attention to Fig's face when we are out, and when she cocks her head, and trains an eye, it is highly likely that I will look off in that direction and easily spot Fig's Mom and Dad sitting atop a building together, keeping a quiet, but watchful, and obviously devoted, caring and concerned eye over and on their adored, and darling daughter from afar. At the park the other day, Fig spotted her Dad off in the distance a quarter mile away silently observing her, and she dashed to the fence to chat with him, but he had gone. She was pretty upset about that. She even flew out of the park perimeter a ways in dismay over his seemingly cold shoulder. I had to console her. I don't think he meant to shun her, I think he had just checked on her, and felt satisfied she was safe, seeing we were together as usual. She very obviously still feels the need for her parent's love and support, however, so I try to get her out to chat with them to satisfy that very important need. She is very much not an adult bird just yet.

Recently I wonder about the pet Raven trade. Here are exotic birds from Africa, and other places, which are sold as babies, not yet fully fledged and reared by their parents. They've not had a chance to fully pick up nuances of their language from Mom and Pop, or siblings. They're in the middle of a tender developmental process, when suddenly the record scratches to a halt, gears switch, they are yanked from their nest, and flown off in a plane, then hello human being, you are now my mother, my father, and my siblings, though I have never seen you before. That must be a very shocking adjustment for the youngsters to make.

I've never met a true "pet" Raven as described above, but I wonder what sort of creature they must become and if they end up okay. I imagine they may become happy, and adjust to their lives with humans. And I suppose that they can be healthy to a degree, if given the opportunity to fly. But I also imagine that they must be psychologically affected by these life changing, shattering? events. I'll stop short of saying that I think they must wind up psychologically damaged, because I know they can adapt into the human world quite well, but they absolutely must end up to some degree with a lingering sense of a great unknown constantly tugging at their hearts and minds. I think of young human children who have lost their parents to war, an accident, or desease, and I can only imagine that the "pet" Raven must suffer a similar, lifelong sense of loss, wonder, and confusion which can never be completely erased, or satisfied.

Fig has very luckily been able to maintain visual, and auditory contact with her parents and siblings as she lives in her parents' homestead. She picks up and uses the local, seasonal calls of her family. She uses English to talk with me at home, but once we get outside, she uses exclusively Crow. So, to a degree, she is like the pet Ravens I worry about. She has had to adapt to a human family, but her adjustment is even more jarring, perhaps, than a pet Raven, because she was fully reared, and fledged by her parents, thus bonded with them, and her many siblings too. So, I worry very deeply over her long term happiness, and well being. Whatever will happen if, when we move? What if we go somewhere where there are no Japanese Crows for her to talk with, or listen to. Will she simply happily adjust more in the direction of human lifestyle? I think she will. I think she can. But our encounters with her parents make me realize more and more that her use, and experience with Crow language, and socializing with Crows, and listening to them and their daily activities, is something I cannot afford to suddenly and completely erase from her daily experience without expecting some serious, unexpectable consequences, and effects to Fig. I suspect she might get depressed, and anxious finding herself suddenly in a new environment without any Crow activity around her at all to listen to, watch, and participate in to the small degree that she can.

All indications are very good, now. She is definitely a happy person. She is definitely well, of body and mind. As a parent, I worry too much. That's my job. I suspect, in another year or two, Fig will have become very fully an adult. I suspect that our bond will have matured, and become established. And I am making efforts to more fully transition her into more indoor family life, in the human world; this seems to be the direction she wants to go, as she wants to be in the house, together, and shows tremendous relief, excitement, and joy upon arriving home from walks. And this is understandable, as wild Crows are not always the most cordial sort, even if they are your family. Humans on the other hand almost always have something soft to say to a bird, or some tasty food on offer.  I worry about pet Ravens, but perhaps they are okay. They are too young to remember their ordeal, their loss. Probably, they learn to communicate with and bond more fully with their human partners than a rehab bird. Fig, though, I must remember, is a wild Crow, and she has parents, and siblings, an upbringing,  and deep, very serious emotions tied to those bonds, connections, experiences and memories. It is far too late to rip her completely from her life, to be suddenly, only, exclusively a pet.

And I wonder, if one took a pet Raven to meet some wild ones, could it transition back to the wild, and if so, what behavior, attitude, manner, outlook, language, affection, habit, what aspect of human kind, for there are many good ones that come immediately to mind, as well as some bad, would that Raven possibly import to Raven culture?

I also wonder, how many would be "pet" Raven buyers out there, might consider instead, to become a caregiver for injured wildlife. I suspect, though the experience will no doubt prove much more challenging, and require a good measure more patience, that ultimately it would prove far more rewarding than purchasing a "companion bird" because not only will you be helping an injured animal to live, that animal will be teaching you (as oposed to you teaching it) many unique, and invaluable things, and bringing you, indeed all of us closer to understanding an as yet, and ever more, mysterious natural world, we find ourselves estranged from, unable to participate in, and sadly losing, almost imperceptively, incrementally day by day. Yet, we innately strive to have that connection with nature. We have a sense for an unknown unknown, as if we ourselves were torn from our parental nest in the distant past. So, why not take an adventure, on the wild side instead?



 

Mealworm Farm Update (twice)

Update 1 on mealworm farm:

I managed to get only 10 mealworm beetles. Every two weeks I put them in a new tub of food to lay eggs. So far....no sign of any baby worms. Anticipation! I want to start the experiment in 5 weeks. Not confident I'll have any reward food though. Oh dear.

Update 2 on mealworm farm:

Oooh! I am a Daddy! Baby worms gallore in the first small cup of flour and grain. Must be hundreds!
Where would the world be without procreation? Baby mealworms are insanely tiny and cute. Barely can even see them. And they are really fast compared to the regular big ones. They wriggle in and out of sight in a couple of instants. There have to be hundreds in this single cup of grain and flour. My wife was even impressed! Then she reminded me that my plan was to murder all of them. Great. I don't think feeding mealworms to a bird counts as murder. My son was so excited that he quickly asked me for some beetles so he could start his own farm. He wants to be a daddy too. I gave him all ten beetles in a new cup of flour. Will make a scientist out of him yet!

Update 3 on mealworm farm:
I gave the worms rolled barley. It appeared to me that many of them died, so I switched them to rice bran which is more nutritious anyway. They are doing fine. Slow growing buggers. Have not had any to feed Fig for a whole week now, but she's getting roast pork, and grasshoppers instead. Grasshopper season is a boon for Fig. There are two main types in Japan. I don't like to give her two many though as I don't enjoy cooking them. I don't enjoy watching her tear them limb from limb. And I really don't enjoy the balls of legs, wings, and exoskeletons Fig coughs up. Mealworms are more nutritious, not infected with internal parasites, and fully digested, apparently, as Fig doesn't cough up balls of worm leather.  

Talking to Wild Crows

I took Fig to a park we hadn't been to for months. The local Crows were very interested in Fig, probably because the resident couple had produced a large number of offspring the last two years. Young Crows have short attention spans, and give up their interest in protesting very loudly after a while. A mated couple of older Crows, on their turf, however, will fuss for a good hour over tresspassers, but they measure out their effort so they don't exhaust themselves in the short term, though they still manage a loud display. And they did. What a racket!

Long after their young brood had caught a clue and flown off for the evening roost, this pair coninued to brazenly circle overhead intermittently, and caw at Fig from a rooftop, standing side by side facing us directly. Fig does not feel the least threatened when we are together. She knows I am protecting her. She just fluffs up on a fence and preens quietly being sure to face me. She only gets fearful if the other birds circle closely.

I decided to have a bit of fun using the Crow lingo I've learned. First, I used  the caw for announcing my presence. Well they did not like that at all as it must seem incredibly sarcastic to announce your presence non challantly while standing in some one else's living room. Then I issued the call for friend. That got them really pissed off and growling. You are not our friend! Then I called out, does anyone want to chat? One of the pair answered back with an aw the tone of which was softening towards cordial. Well, her mate did not like that at all. They started bickering, and pecking and before long they were tumbling and tussling in a full on growling lover's brawl on the rooftop which went on for thirty seconds. A real full on fight. Then they returned to their post, to continue venting. But their fight had used up their last bit of energy, and they soon headed off for the night to roost in wuite a huff, at us, and at each other.

I think the worst thing you can do is show aggression towards wild Crows. Unless you enjoy being cawed at wherever you go. If you learn a few calls, its easy to  communicate that you are not threatening, and in a short time, you will see a dramatic change in how you are perceived. There is no benefit to being know as threatening. Being an acquaintance on the other hand enables you to quietly observe Crows engaging in lots of fun, entertaining activities that they won't be displaying in the presence of a threat.

This is not to say that I don't press my physical clout a bit. I do not tolerate Crows coming close to Fig. Dive bombing, growling, threatening by standing in treetops (this seems to be some sort of standard territorial proclamation stance, my tree!) etc... I will check those behaviors, but I won't push unless pushed first. This way the wild Crows learn that Fig and I are a pair, that we are not a threat, especially not her, but that we will command respect. The Crows at the other parks we frequent more often all basically ignore us now after a quick greeting, passport check. We'll see if the Crows at this park are fast learners. I'm sure they'll be reasonable like the rest. I certainly hope so because the neighbors will complain if they have to endure listening to Crows mobbing Fig everytime I go to that park.