It was already dark when I got home with my new friend, and I am sure that the late hour of arrival combined with the kids’ insistence on staying up to see the bird played a huge role in Laura’s initial reaction to our newest family member. That or the fact that he promptly pooped on Laura’s favorite chair pretty much the moment I got him out of the box. It was my fault really. I didn’t think he would eat at first because that, of course, is what all the books say. Well my guy didn’t read the books because at the first offer of food, he bent right over and macked down a nice meal of mouse. It was unexpected to say the least.
We hung out in the living room until Laura banished us to the basement (took all of five minutes) and I gave a few pinkies and mice from the glove. One thing I can say. This bird can EAT! He has an appetite not unlike your typical Denny’s patron at all times. I was worried about him though. His keel was sharp, he was having a lot of mutes, and drinking a lot of water. This combined with his appetite made me worried that this was a sick bird. My scale was broken that first night so I was unable to get a weight on him that night or the following morning, but his trap weight was 36 oz. and with gear he had increased to 36.8 oz.
He really didn’t like his bling though. He was constantly picking and pulling at his anklets and jesses. I thought he was going to tear them off but they held up alright. Turned out he liked the giant hood. When I pulled him out he was all fluffed up and standing on one foot happy as a clam. I only had one bulb on in the basement and that was fine. No real bating even that first night.
The next morning I decided to introduce him to everyone and even walk him around outside a bit. From what I have read, there are two schools of thought here. Some folks swear that you should introduce everything to the bird at once so he can assimilate everything at one time and others think you should introduce new things slowly to these birds during the manning process, keeping them in a darkened room until they are ready to see new things. He mantled up as expected with the dogs and once outside, it was bate central. I walked him around the yard and showed him his mews and took him back inside. Once back in the basement, he calmed right down and started to rouse and preen on the glove. It was amazing how fast this bird was becoming comfortable with me.
That night I introduced him to his bow perch and tried to get him to step to the glove. The quick little bugger snuck a few mice from me before I got used to him but he wouldn’t hop to the glove. He did manage a sort of step and stretch thing, but I didn’t think it was elegant enough that any judges would count it as a true hop to the glove.
I, of course, went to bed worrying over things. All things. I wondered if his hood was ventilated appropriately. I was concerned that he would bate in the box and mess up his train. I was still really worried about him being malnourished and sick. I listened for his bells all night and when i didn't hear them i was convinced he had keeled over in the box. I have missed many of the things that I have lost in life, and I have been overjoyed when those things came back into my life at a later date. Not so these neuroses... Really. If one has the fortune to survive raising an infant or three, those neurotic feelings are typically never spoken of, kind of like that in-law cousin with the funny teeth and bad hair who sits at the Thanksgiving table quoting Dr. Seuss. Fortunately my neuroses found a relatively chilly reception upon their return and took off rather put out after a brief, if unwelcome, stay.
No comments:
Post a Comment