Blog Archives

How High is High Enough?

4/30/2013

At the very top of the 14 foot aviary.

     Q: How high is "high enough" for a parrot?
     A: The sky.
    Our aviary is 6+ feet long by 3+ feet wide by 14+ feet high. (The builders in Costa Rica use meters rather than feet). But the length and width don't seem to matter much to the parrots. And everything below the top foot might as well be used for another purpose.
     Q: How close is close enough for an orange-chinned parrot?
     A: Our two parrots spend most of their time inter-twined, with full body contact.  It must be heaven for the older bird, who spent the first two years of its life alone in a cage.
     Q: How much food can a parrot that weighs just a few ounces eat?
     A: I put two breakfast dishes out this morning; one on the feeder inside the door, and one on the shelf with the box. Six hours later they were totally picked over, and none of the food was on the ground. The apple, papaya, mango, canteloupe, watermelon, banana, curly pasta and small seeds were gone. The broccoli and carrot? Not so popular.  So I tried corn and peas when I prepared their supper bowls tonight.

Velcro parrots. Happy together.

Breakfast for two little parrots.

Six hours later. Where's dinner?

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A Spider Monkey in a Sports Bra

4/19/2013

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     If this post brings my professionalism as a rehabilitator into question, so be it. I'm firmly opposed to dressing wild animals in clothes. But last night when I laid out what I was going to wear today, I inadvertently left the pile too close to Lolita's crib. (At a year-and-a-half of age Lolita is in a large cage outside during the day, but still spends the night in our bedroom and wakes us up for a bottle around 2:00 AM.)
     I slept in this morning, and Paul snapped these photos of Lolita trying to put on my black sports bra. (I had no idea she watches so closely when I get dressed.)    Lolita's "blanket" is to her left on the bottom of the cage, and my shirt...perhaps less of a challenge...is to her right.
     The pictures are presented here in the order they were taken, as Lolita's apparent frustration increased.

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Birds of a Feather?

4/19/2013

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Together on the food tray.

Together on the metal shelf.

     Birds of a feather? No, but close. Thanks to Parrot Rescue Center of Costa Rica, Uno now has an orange-chinned parakeet for company!  (Uno is an orange-fronted parakeet.) The two have been sticking together since they were introduced today, and the new arrival got very vocal when Uno was removed from the aviary for a trip to the vet.
     The not-so-good news? Uno had to have a hematoma drained this afternoon, and the vet said the wing should be amputated. We're taking Uno to Zoo Ave on Monday, anticipating surgery.
     Hoping for the best possible outcome for our little feathered companion. Wildlife rehabilitation isn't always easy on either the rescued or the rescuer.

Orange-chinned parrots in the wild.

Orange-fronted parrots in the wild.

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A Day of Firsts

4/18/2013

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If Uno hatched this season, today was her first shower. Like Guanacaste and the northern Pacific coast of Costa Rica, San Ramon is classified as dry forest rather than rain forest. The difference? Dry forest experiences both a wet and a dry season, the latter being consecutive months without rain every year. And San Ramon has had less than 2 inches of rain since October 25th...now a week shy of six months. (Yes, we're counting.)

BEFORE

DURING

AFTER

      Today was also Uno's first day in the new aviary.
     PLAN A. Knowing that she would have a learning curve, I covered the tile floor with two packing blankets to absorb a fall. Within a half hour of putting her on the crotch of the tree I heard a single squawk and found Uno (safely) on the ground. She quickly figured out how to climb up the wire on the wall of the door...but then got stuck under the metal crossbar.
     PLAN B.  I hung a rope "vine" so Uno could climb past the metal bar.  A short time later I found her perched on the food tray enjoying lunch. (I'm also leaving a tray with food and water on the ground for the first day or two, but like spider monkeys, birds love height...the higher the better.)
     PLAN C. Now I just need to call around and find Uno some company!
     To be continued...

Perched on the tree trunk.

Stuck under the metal crossbar.

Enjoying her first lunch in the aviary.

Uno quickly figured out how to use a rope "vine."

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One is the Loneliest Number

4/16/2013

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Recouperating in a fish tank in our bathroom.

One is definitely the loneliest number if you're an orange-fronted conure who should travel in a flock of thirty to one hundred squawking parrots. Especially if you have a broken wing, and will never fly again.
I volunteered in the bird nursery at a wildlife rehabilitation center in WA state for two summers, where protocol dictated humane euthanasia for all wildlife (birds and mammals) that couldn't be released. Intellectually I accepted the premise that death was better than captivity, and I never had to make the decision, so I shed a few private tears and fed the next gaping beak.

     Things are different this time. I know the back story. Paul was taking an afternoon walk in the jungle with Magdalena, the street dog we rescued, and our new puppy - when a troop of capuchin monkeys (omnivores) came through. Magdalena chased them, obviously unable to do them any harm in the trees. But when she returned, the rescued had become the rescuer, and she carried a flapping green parrot in her mouth.
     I've fed this little parrot with a huge appetite - affectionately called Piggy Bird - for a week now.  I've taken her to two vets (one an avian specialist in another city), and know that her broken wing can not be mended sufficiently for her to fly again. I've medicated her twice a day, and forgiven her for the bandage on my middle finger. And I've seen and heard a squawking flock of orange-fronted conures land in the trees around our house and call to her for the last seven days...as well as her excited answers.
     Should I euthanize her because she can't survive in the wild? Or should I find a few others who can't be released and let them enjoy companionship, the possibility of reproduction (and offspring that CAN be released), a smorgasbord of fruit and vegetables, and fresh air...in a protected aviary?
     I've named her Uno, because she's the first rescue actually from Magallanes to enter our Centro de Rescate de Vida Silvestre Magallanes.  Now I need to contact other rehab centers and adopt Dos, Tres, and maybe Quatro.

Uriel begins converting a monkey cage into an aviary.

Just waiting for an occupant...or two or three or four.

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Snagged By a Tooth...

4/13/2013

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       Paul hadn't been in with Chiquito for almost a month, thanks to construction of the new cage and a "trap" door between the two sides that's operational from the escape area. But there was also a large panel in the common wall that could be opened to make it one big cage at some point in the future, and Chiquito decided the time had come. (There's a combination lock on it now, per Oscar's suggestion.) Lolita went wild, fearing the worst from her new cage companion - and Oscar, Paul and I all came running. It actually seemed like we had things under control. I sprayed Chiquito with the hose. Paul got Lolita out. But someone had to go into the cage with Chiquito to close the big panel, and while we didn't foresee a problem, Chiquito was just too excited for company. We should have waited until he dried off (he hates getting wet), and settled down. Translation? Our mistake.
      Long story short, Paul couldn't get Chiquito out of the escape area back into either half of the cage.  Chiquito nibbled on Paul's ankle. Paul pushed him off. And then Paul yelled: "He bit me hard!" as blood pulsed out of his forearm.
     There was blood everywhere.  Oscar turned the hose on Chiquito, who headed into the cage. Oscar then proceeded to hose enough blood out of the escape area for a vampire film. In the meantime I called our neighbor Gloria to come up to monkeysit Lolita, wrapped Paul's forearm in a towel, and drove him into town to our doctora...who is also a surgeon.

Thank goodness we didn't go to the Emergency Room...

      Paul was anticipating interior stitches to close up an artery before stitches to close up the skin. I visualized a four inch battle scar. But apparently Chiquito had just snagged a tooth in Paul's vein, and the vein sprayed blood all over the place before collapsing. Nary a stitch was needed. In fact, the doctor applied two little round band-aids, and didn't want to charge us.
     "Were you playing or fighting?" she asked Paul.
     "Fighting," Paul responded.
     "Poor monkey!" she said, and laughed.
    When Paul went back for his follow-up visit, she inquired about Chiquito and they both laughed.

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Frida Kahlo, Henri Rousseau...and Susan Adams

4/5/2013

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Self-Portrait with Monkeys, by Frida Kahlo

Two Monkeys in the Jungle, by Henri Rousseau

Chiquito and Lolita, by Susan Adams

     There aren't many paintings of monkeys by famous artists (which is obviously a glaring omission on the part of the art world, in my opinion), but what little there is commands hefty prices at auction. Frida Kahlo's "Self-Portrait with Monkey and Parrot" sold for $3,192,500 in 2005, and one of Henri Rousseau's lesser-known jungle paintings sold for $2,882,500 in 2009. But even if I were in a position to spend $3 million on art, I'd use it to buy living rainforest for vanishing monkeys.
     Back in our real world, Paul and I commissioned a portrait of Lolita and Chiquito to hang above the fireplace. Artist Susan Adams used photographs of the monkeys, and our view of the Gulf of Nicoya to the west. The baby in the upper left of the painting is Lolita as an infant...and hopefully also a portent of things to come when our spider monkeys are released into the jungle as adults. Thank you, Susan!!! www.theadamsartgallery.com

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When Chiquito Doesn't Want to Play...

4/3/2013

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Curled up and indifferent to our activity in the adjoining cage.

     When Chiquito is off his game, the rest of us don't want to play, either. Fortunately, it has only happened twice.
    Yesterday Chiquito had no interest in being tickled by Oscar, or trying to grab his hat. He ignored Lolita when she was put in the other half of the cage.  And we fretted.
     Oscar thought we should have the vet come out, and Paul did speak with her, but Chiquito had no symptoms other than general malaise.  Her main concern was diarrhea, and his poop was normal...as far as fruity monkey poop goes. He was eating, albeit half-heartedly. She thought it might just be a change in the weather.

I gave Chiquito a small baby bottle of Pedialyte mid-morning, and again before bed, both of which he drank. I gave him some Bene-Bac probiotic, which he licked off my finger. I gave him a chunk of raw honey, which he ate. But none of it with his usual enthusiasm.
I threw out the previously frozen fruits I had thawed (I keep a freezer full of his favorites for the off seasons), thinking maybe something had gone bad. Mamoncino, jocote, and fresh figs...into the garbage, not even the recycle bin.

Chiquito accepts and enjoys a banana.

Chiquito seems to be himself this morning. (Alexa, Oscar's wife, called early to check.) I hustled out in my nightgown to give him a banana and he chirped, came over to me, got comfortable, and polished it off. I wanted to hug him. Just to be sure all was really well, I went into the house and got another banana. He ate that, too...but this time on top of his bamboo hutch, while surveying his surroundings. Most of yesterday had been spent huddled under his blanket.
Who knew a monkey eating a banana could make me so euphoric? Game ON!

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In the jungle with the monkeys.

Michele Gawenka

Jane Goodall has always been my hero, and working with primates an aspiration. Africa wasn't in the cards the summer I turned 16, when my parents offered to send me to volunteer, and there was only one class (in physical anthro-pology) when I wanted to study primatology in college.
Decades later my husband and I retired in Costa Rica, and this is our journey with spider (and howler) monkeys.