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Human, what are you doing here?

The snoozy season has begun. No nest-building, molting is more or less done, the weather provides no challenges, so Gwen and S. Crowbert do not have much to worry about. The occasional irritating crow perches in the tree above their enclosure and has to be yelled at, but otherwise the days are uneventful.

Since nothing much is bugging our corvid friends, I have to step up. I have been trying to establish a bit more of a rapport with them. Inside of leaving food, I’ve been staying in the enclosure, which is an Unacceptable Intrusion.

 

The first time I dropped mice on the ground and didn’t retreat, Gwen squawked at me for a full ten minutes before finally giving up and flying down to the ground. She picked up a mouse, returned to the perch, laid the mouse on the branch, whereupon Stephen promptly stole it. Down she went again and this time she chose the lesser of two evils and ate the mouse on the ground so she wouldn’t lose a second serving.

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Gwen contemplating my existence

Gwen does not approve of mind games unless she is playing them. On day three, she flew down, ate her worms, and then hopped over toward me and perched on a log on the ground about six feet from where I was standing. She then proceeded to wipe her beak on the log: distain turns out to be a sentiment shared by many species. I have persisted, however. Today Stephen Crowbert actually flew down before Gwen did. He has decided simply to ignore me. Gwen continues to come toward me after she has finished her meal. I think maybe she’s gotten to the point that she is merely curious. We have, after all, been interacting for going on three years. It might be time to get acquainted.