The other day, I was at the parrot rescue talking to one of the new birds and one of the workers said, "Bob, you have a real way with the parrots." She was giving me a compliment, but I didn't really feel that it was deserved. After all, I wasn't actually handling the new bird or training it or making any observable progress, I was just talking to it. But, he was talking back - it was a conversation.
In the movie, The Last Samurai, the main character (Katsumoto) says to the American Soldier, "I have introduced myself - you have introduced yourself. It was a good conversation." That's how it was with this bird - we introduced ourselves. There was an exchange of respect for each other, but no intimacy. I told him that I was glad he was here and that we would take care of him as best we could; he told me that he was glad to be here and that he wasn't too sure about things yet and that he was glad that I didn't want to eat him.
It's a slow road with an animal who has learned not to trust poeple. With well socialized dogs, regardless of their lack of training, I can jump in and teach some basic behaviors really fast. You know the story: a couple of clicks to charge the clicker and then we get sit, lie down, and fetch before anybody gets bored. It looks like magic. With a poorly socialized animal it is a different story - it's a rewarding story, but slow. Once you get the trust, things pick up, but trust has to be built - a few treats don't make up for years of mistrust.
When I was a teenager, I spent the summers in Texas with my Dad and step-siblings. One year, my little sister had gotten a siberian husky puppy. It was about a year old and when I got there, I patted my knees and called, "Come here boy!" The dog took off with its tail between its legs and hid under a bed! "Oh, your sister is the only one who can even pet the dog - I don't know what happened but that dog is afraid of everything. We don't think he will ever be a real family dog."
Well, forget that. I was a teenage dog trainer and no stupid past experiences were going to keep me from having a great time with this husky - so I started down a slow road. We started with a conversation. Over the coming weeks, I got a little closer each day. I didn't do anything scary. I didn't try to grab him. I didn't throw things. I didn't yell or run. I sat in a chair. Then I sat on the floor. I handed out treats and talked softly. It was so quiet and slow that not even my family noticed when the dog sat next to me while I slowly petted his neck. They did notice one evening about a month later when the dog came into the room with a toy and started playing tug-of-war and wrestling with me and playing like a dog! It took time, but the results were worth it. I introduced the dog to my brother and then to my dad. Eventually, I got the dog to sit in the recliner with me and then with my dad. They had a family dog and I went back home.
It was probably my first taste of the satisfaction and rewards of working with a re-homed animal (I really hesitate to use the word "abused" unless I know for sure that there was truly abuse). It may have been the first time my dad really showed some appreciation for who I was - it was very reinforcing.
My latest parrot, Kilo Lani, is on a slow road. Hands frighten him. Hand-held perches frighten him. Target sticks frighten him. Little green dishes full of treats frighten him. The treats themselves frighten him. [For some reason the big black dog does not frighten him and he often climbs down low on his cage and calls out, "Come here"]
Yesterday, Kilo sat on a perch beside me as I worked on some graphics designs and took treats from my hand and stepped onto my hand a few times and we hung out. It was a good conversation. And, in time, I am convinced that he will learn to play like a family dog - he already barks.
