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

have been described as some “grotesque miniature gargoyles.” He is their only “child,” and he receives considerably more daily attention than most children of even a one-child family.
    Merlin ignored me totally, and he would continue to do so for the rest of the week. He pecked lightly at my hand if I intruded it near his face. When I brought my hand near him a second time, he emitted a growl, fluffed his feathers, and pecked much harder. I did not dare to try it a third time. He is bonded most strongly to Duane. If given a choice, he spends his time with no other human. If Duane is gone, he approaches Susan. Other members of the family whom he has known for years are not approached.
    His memory for individual people seems to be indelible. When Duane and Susan were away for six months, Merlin stayed with Duane’s brother, whom he already knew and accepted. When they came back, his reaction to Duane was instant and strong. “He bolted from Charles to my shoulder instantly, as if I’d never left. Then he stayed on me like a burr the rest of the day. On that day, he also became unusually aggressive, showing his dominance through feather posture. He drove off the magpies, chased the vultures and a Cooper’s hawk. Was he trying to reestablish his worthiness as a mate?”
    Duane’s observations not only attest to the bird’s long-term memory, but also address his fidelity. If he distinguishes and remembers individuals of another species as well as he does, it stands to reason that ravens in the wild recognize members of their own species at leastas well, and bond to them as long and as strongly. How well could we distinguish one raven from another and infallibly remember them?
    Charles served bacon and eggs, which we ate under the live oak trees. Merlin perched on Duane. He was picky, eating only in small bites. He may already have fed from his staple, the canned dog food always available in his jail. He does not cache surplus food because he rarely needs food for a “rainy day,” as do wild ravens. Perhaps that is because there never has been a “rainy day” in his life; food is never an issue—it is always available. No great effort needs to be spent where it is not needed. Nevertheless, crediting him with optimal efficiency in energy allocation may be premature—although Merlin rarely caches food he spends considerable time and effort caching such useless things as wood chips and other trinkets.
    After spending a half hour or so on Duane’s shoulder, he hopped down to the ground to dig in the soil and to pick at wood chips and other debris. One nondescript four-inch wood chip in particular drew his attention. He tried to shove it into the sandy soil, succeeding only partially, then covered up the rest with debris scraped from the sides. He placed a leaf or two on top. Almost invariably, a small section of the chip still showed. He tried to tamp this part down by pecking it hard. As a result, the whole chip got uncovered, and the whole process was repeated. Then he dug a small trench nearby using alternate sideswipes of his partially open bill. He picked the chip up, laid it into the trench, and scraped the surrounding soil over it with his bill. Finished? No. Within two or three minutes, he was back to dig the chip up, and he then repeated the process in a similar manner with the same or some other chip.
    Someone from the appreciatively watching audience offered him a strip of bacon. He flew off with it onto the ground of the nearby hillside, where a flock of about a dozen yellow-billed magpies immediately joined him. He made rasping-growling calls at them, then returned to us. The magpies then dug in the soil all around where he had been, perhaps searching for the cached bacon.
    It was barely eleven o’clock, and the sun was blazing hot. Our caffeine levels were up to par, but the heat was already inducing some ofus to reach for a cool beer. Merlin, too, got offered a few sips of brew through a tipped