Free Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures With Wolf-Birds by Bernd Heinrich

treats it as his home base and sanctuary, returning to it eagerly at night, wherever it may be found. At the Callahans’ home in the deep, dark redwood groves near Santa Cruz, Merlin’s cage sits on a stand of two-by-fours in the living roomkitchen. Merlin is let free in the house daily, and he spends most of his free time perched on Duane’s knee. Merlin is calm as a clam most of the time, although once a day he gets animated and flies around the room, negotiating the tight turns around the central fan with no problem. The door and living room window are left open in the summer,but he never tries to go outside, although he has every opportunity to do so.
    After we had loaded him into his cage and put that into the camper, we eagerly began the four-hour drive to Pozo. Merlin perched forward, maintaining contact with Duane in the cab. Like a dog eager to come home after a long drive, Merlin became restless, and excitedly hopped about when we got within a mile or two of our destination. Once there, Duane immediately let him out. With few preliminaries, Merlin launched himself high into the air, flying several loops above the chaparral before circling down and alighting on Duane’s shoulder.
    At camp, he sleeps in his cage just as he does in Santa Cruz, but he wakes up earlier. It is not safe to be out when the great horned owls begin to fly, and each evening, one commonly does fly by Camp Pozo. Merlin appears anxiously to seek out Duane in the evening to be “tucked into bed.” In the morning, Duane again lets him out. Even though Merlin is here in the wild, he stays near his “family.”

     
    Young ravens sleep by bowing head (left) or tucking head into feathers of back (right) .
     
    His first calls the morning I was there were typical loud raven calls. Nobody got up. He next tried two series of high-pitched calls that mimicked crow alarm calls. It was the first time I had ever heard a raven sound like a crow. He followed up with a two-note rasping call that I also had not heard before, then he softly uttered a series of “Hi,Hi, Hi,” and “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin…” and some barely audible gurgling noises that I couldn’t decipher. He had his own unique vocabulary.
    When we arose at last, thirsty for strong hot coffee, Merlin was silent again. Duane said that Merlin used to try to get him up early by making a lot of noise.
    Duane, with coffee cup in hand, looked at the cloudless blue sky and declared, “Another hot one. Merlin won’t do a lot of flying. He’d rather spend his time on my shoulder in the shade.” With that, he walked to the trailer, crawled inside, and exchanged morning greetings with Merlin.
    “Merlin—how are you?”

     
    Merlin and Duane in mutual greeting ceremony .
     
    A few soft grunts came from within.
    “Want to come out now?”
    “Mm, mm,” said Merlin.
    After Merlin gave a few more soft mm ’s and grunts, Duane opened the “jail” door. Merlin, sleek and eager, hopped out. After the exchange of a few more pleasantries, he flew up to Duane’s shoulder.
    “Want some chicken?”
    “Mmmm.”
    “Tasty?”
    “Mmmm.”
    “Is this special?”
    “Mm.”
    “Want some more?”
    “Mm.”
    “Alright!”

     
    Merlin and Susan .
     
    Social amenities and long conversations over, Merlin spun his head back and forth, scanning in all directions. He blinked once or twice, andflew off with strongly beating wings over the clearing and through the oaks. Soon he was high above them. After several circles over Camp Pozo, he banked steeply, and I heard the air being forced through his wings in a continuous rippling sound as he dove and again landed on Duane’s shoulder, fluffed out and shook. He was feeling great. Duane continued to sip his coffee, and continued the conversation.
    “You are just about the most beautiful thing under the sun,” he said, caressing Merlin’s head feathers.
    “Mm.”
    Duane and Susan raised Merlin from his pinfeathery fledgling stage, when young ravens