The Writer

Proceed with caution ...thesis writing ahead!

                                                                           Lucrecia as Poetry                                         Salvador Rosa                                                                                                                                                                                                    

The bloggie will be allowed to blog again as soon as the first draft of her thesis is completed!

Lesson learned:

Procrastination is an evil thing!

The Blues of Summer

...Imagine a country where 17% of the ground coverage is wild blueberries.

...Imagine a summer sky and a sea so blue that it becomes difficult to determine where the blueberries end and the scenery begins.

...Imagine buckets and buckets of tiny antioxident wonders in pancakes ...pies ...muffins

and tarts.

I close my eyes and see nothing but a mass of blue. My fingers are permanently purple. My back, rounded as a tortoise I once tried to train, and if I tried to quickly stand up straight, I'm certain I'd fracture several vertebrae.   

And no matter how long it's been since the sun and moon exchanged places in the sky, I can't seem to stop picking. 

 

I'm told it's a condition that strikes 
unsavy animal trainers every July here in Sweden.  This year, I tried to counter-act my harvesting compulsion by bringing my son along to utter verbal reality checks every hour, on the hour.  It helped somewhat, but there always seemed to be one last "perfect" berry that just had to be plucked. 

After sketching the nearby artist's cottage, and monitoring my progress over the course of several hours, my son finally got my attention.  Even with my head in the bushes, I heard the smultron cider cork pop, and the sound of the cool, bubbling brew filling two glasses.

Lesson Learned

Summer in Sweden is bewitching

The tiny 'smultrons'

 If 17% of Sweden's ground-cover also contained these,

 I'd be dead by now!







The Fairy Creature

In Scottish mythology, Cat Sith is a fairy creature, sometimes a witch, resembling a large black cat with a white spot on its chest -notorious for haunting

the Scottish Highlands. 

The creature can move in silence,

 and strike before its seen.  

Cat Sith is legendary and ferocious,

with a bold and fiery spirit,

and of all the Scottish wildlife,

it is the creature considered to be

the most "untameable".
                                           Kerry Kilshaw

Leaving the Highlands always seems a little surreal to me  -as if one should pass through a misty veil that separates the wilderness from the city of Edinburgh.  Perhaps it was there, I just didn't see it. Instead, I had allowed my mind to sway back and forth between a wakeful state and slumber, as the bus ride transported me back towards the city -leaving all the waterfalls and heather-covered mountains of the Highlands somewhere behind that veil of mist.

Upon my arrival in Edinburgh, I took time to settle into my B&b before pulling out the research papers (all 3,200 minutes of them!), and turning on the computer.  It's an odd feeling in this age of technological dependency, to press the "start" button on  a computer -only to find oneself  starring at a totally black screen.  I fortunately had done a backup on the portable device back home before I left Sweden.  If I hadn't, the research, the blog, and this blogger would all have come to an untimely, dramatic end.  Heart failure is not a joking matter!

Two weeks have passed since the burial of my computer, and now all is well.  The research for the first writing deadline has been completed, and I'm slowly starting to gather up speed for the second stage of the project.  I love the process of writing.  It forces me to sift through a multitude of details -a high class junkyard in my case, in order to find the core of what's  truly important -and in this project, I believe I have.

To be honest, when I first began the research, I knew very little about cats -in fact, I wasn't much of a cat person at all.  I respected their independence, but I really didn't understand it.  However, studying these little creatures for the last 3 months has surprisingly taught me a great deal about myself.  They taught me - despite all the research that's been done, and all the conclusions that other people have drawn, that a trainer and an animal start their relationship with a clean slate ...that you shape the relationship with love, first and foremost, before you ever reach for a reinforcer.

Very few people have attempted to train a European or Scottish Wildcat, and those who have, generally have used a 'trial and error' method -which typically ends in an 'error'.  During my training sessions with the European wildcats, I attempted to use a new training method developed at the University of North Texas.  I will go more into detail in the next blog, but for now, let me just say -It was highly effective! 

Untameable? -perhaps. 

Untrainable? -not in the least.

Lesson Learned:

You don't always have to love

only that which loves you back

                                                         

                                                           Mike Tomkies

                                                            Naturalist

An Chat Fiadhaich

"Na Bean D'on Chat Gun Lamhainn"  

"Touch Not the Chat bot a Glove" 

(Olde Gaelic Saying)

 

To date, the meaning of the old saying above seems to be somewhat vague...depending if one reads the word 'bot' as 'but', or just as it is, which would then mean in Gaellic 'without'. In the highlands of Scotland, however, it clearly is clan specific - and historically  the inference most likely shifted in proportion to either the battle at hand, or the miel 'in hand'.   As for my first encounter with the phrase, I read the words to mean that one should wear a glove before touching a wildcat, which clearly made good sense to me, but to the 14 clans that make up the "Clan Chattan Association" (translation = the Clan of Cats ...yes, there is such a thing!), it was a warning to anyone who threatened any member of their clan

Along with many other interesting tales, I was led to believe that the Scottish Wildcat was much larger, and much more fiesty than its European counterpart, but I'm happy -and quite relieved to say that this only seems to be a spin-off from the animal's legendary fame -one well-earned after the creature survived the ice-age and then moved on to a 9,000-year reign of terror in the British Isles.

Upon my arrival at the Scottish wildlife park, I was greeted by 3 very lively female wildcats, and 1 easy-going ol' Tom.  The Tom and his mate live together in 2 enclosures that fortunately have been opened up to give them a little more leg- room. This extra space was needed for the expansion of their family 7 weeks ago.

                                          (see "Kitt" and "Katt" below)



 









The other 2 female cats live in a separate enclosure, but conveniently still  within view of their neighbors.  This makes for better spying and intimidation practices,  extremely gratifying  activities that occur whenever there's a lull in the action.  Time in between the spying and intimidation festivities is spent stalking creatures that get too close to their enclosures, chasing butterflies, playing tag-and-swat with each other, and for the family unit -there is always the occasional hiss and growl that keeps the kids in-line when they practice their hunting skills on the black tips of their parents' tails !

It's a very different feline energy that exists here in the Highland enclosures.  There's much more cat-to-cat interaction and playing going on.  I have yet to see any of the cats display fearful or stress-related behaviors towards the zookeepers or even the most unruly of the park's guests. 

My goal over the next 2 weeks is to try and understand the variables that might be contributing to such behavioral differences between the Swedish cats and the Scottish cats.

One of the walkways and a small portion of the enclosure

I've begun the process by looking at the enclosures themselves. With an overall "Laura Ashley meets Cirque du Soleil" kind of ambiance in  the Highland's design, they are a bit smaller than the Swedish enclosures, but still  nicely forested inside -giving the cats many resting, playing  and perching areas.  The most striking difference, however, is that of the aerial walkways -which run like monorail tracks for gerbils on speed throughout what appears at first glance to be Scotland's entire network of remaining forests.  There's no shortage of places for the cats to go as  the walkways lead them over red squirrel and wildbird feeding stations, directly above and across visitor trails, around both sides of the pine martin's enclosure, and if the park should ever choose, the doors that lead to the other cats' enclosure could even be opened up -thus making for one giant wildcat metropolis and I'm quite certain, the speedy exodus of one particular pine martin. 

Tomorrow, I shall have a look at the zookeeper's daily routine with the cats -more specifically, their feeding schedule, enclosure cleaning schedule, enrichment and training, vet check-ups, health-care procedures, and any other information that the 'keepers' might be able to provide.

Clearly, something here is making a difference -thankfully.

Lesson learned:

Whatever one thinks they know about Scotland,

 the tales -just like the country, definitely become more grandious and colorful
the further north one goes.
                                   carol

Oh, Ye'll take the highroad

The Highlands of Scotland



It's a short plane ride from Stockholm, just under two hours and you can find yourself in the land of haggish and multicolored plaids.  I've visited the Highlands twice before, and each time I felt a sense of awe at the complete 'wildness' of the land.  Two years ago, I took this photo while I was hiking along the coastal paths -in the distance is the Isle of Skye.  Last year, I spent time  exploring hidden castle ruins in the Trossachs, and in a few days time, I shall be venturing into the Cairgorms in search of the Scottish Wildcats.

A Harp Still Resonates in an Ancient Grand Hall



Scotland, for me, is a very musical country, and if one stands very still in a quiet place for any length of time, the melodies of olde can still be heard. They are, of course, hidden away -along with the faeries, the elves, and the legends, but they still carry in the wind, and echo in the stones of ancient castle walls -one only needs to use their imagination, and then listen.

My journey this year takes me into the town of Kingussie.  Nearby is a facility that has devoted time, research, and a great deal of funding to aide the preservation of the Scottish Wildcat -a subspecies of the European Wildcat, and if temperament is an indicator, direct descendants of Winkin!  To date, it has been estimated that there are less than 400 Scottish wildcats roaming freely about in the Highlands -certainly not enough to avoid extinction unless humans intervene to help save the species.

My task for the next 10 days will be to study the behavior of the facility's wildcats.  My original thesis project that I started in Sweden had to be altered -unfortunately, this was unavoidable as the differences in the objectives and priorities were too great between myself and members of the staff.   It is hard for me to comprehend the notion that some people do not see value in training animals in captivity, but this, all too often, is the case.  Lengthy discussions arose and decisions were made, and ultimately, I found myself shaking my head in disbelief, and recalling the quote from the fictious 'Borg' characters on the old Star Trek TV series,  "resistance is futile!" -and indeed, it was. 

            "Resistance is Futile!"

The new project will be a comparative study of the wildcats at two different facilities.  I will look at how the daily routines, the enclosures, and the enrichment activities affect the animals' behaviors.  It is my hope that the study will, in no uncertain terms, show that enrichment activities, animal training, aerial walkways, and certain feeding routines all positively affect the behavior of these very shy, independent creatures.



So the suitcases are once again laying open on the living room floor.  There is no apprehension, however, this time. 

Winkin', Blinkin', Nod, and Tail-Up-Straight all taught me well.

Lessons learned:

  

 If people don't share the same goal,
moving forward will be a long, difficult process.    
&
When a door closes... 
and that window just won't open,
 find yourself a good hammar
 and start smashing out the nearest wall ! 
                                                                    carol

Enrichment with "Lagom"

A Midsommar Night's Dream - 'lagom' light

'Lagom' - the definition: (good luck to anyone who's not Swedish!)

 'just enough' - 'just right' - 'comfortably acceptable' ...and many other precisely vague declarations for 'okay!'

Living in Sweden has taught me a great deal about myself -but I have to say, this concept of "Lagom" over here still challenges my thinking, and on more than one occasion, has caused me to break out in a cold sweat.  Upon hearing the simplest utterance of this word, all translation comes to a halt, and an assessment of all my worldly perspectives, core values, and inner stabilizers ensues.  It's immediate, it's automatic, and it's as annoying as a Microsoft update!

For a long time, I typically  employed 'the short-cut approach'  -each time the word was used, I filled in with a "whatever!."  This temporarily seemed to improve the flow of conversation,  but it did very little for my level of understanding, so today, I'm going to experiment.  I will  attempt to place the word into some specific contexts.  

(Above) Only if you like to drink seawater



'Lagom' salt

                                                           

Never Again!!!

Lagom' fun for me!

  

'Lagom' Enrichment

'

Enrichment way past 'lagom!'

Lesson learned:  'Lagom' is in the eye of the beholder.
                                                                                                   carol

Oh, for the Love of Pigs!

Old friends, "Bruno and Gunnar"

 

As a trainer, I've got to say -pigs are easy!  They'll eat practically anything, they're quick to catch on, they're always glad to see you, and they'll train until the sun goes down!  

The first time I attempted to train pigs, I found a lively pair of mini-pigs at it the local 4H Club just north of Stockholm.  At the time, Bruno and Gunnar were still quite small, but even as piglets, they  enchanted every child who  ventured into the 'gris-huset' (pig house), and I have to admit, they quickly worked their magic on me as well.



Gunnar and Bruno, in their youth

 But it wasn't just their learning speed, or their good looks that sold me on pigs -it was their endearing personalities and joyful outlook on life that kept me cycling up to the gris huset in Sweden's snowiest winter since 1980.  Upon entering their stall, there was no shortage of enthusiasm -they ran in every direction ...turning circles, bumping into walls -there was extreme snorting and squeeling, and their curly tails looked like helicopter propellers trying to take off with 80lbs of pork!

Yes, for Gunnar and Bruno, training was a game -and there were no losers. 

Gunnar getting a belly-rub.  Note the smile!

By the end of week 4, Gunnar had learned how to spin, back up, do a figure 8, nose-target a bucket 8 feet away, do duration 'stays', weave between my legs as I walked, ring a bell by using his mouth to pull down on a little string, jump, heel, and push a ball.  The only behavior that we couldn't get was the retrieve.

I sent out an "any ideas?" email to a trainer's support group, and 2 days later, I received a response from Karen Pryor -the woman who is largely responsible for so many of the positive changes happening in the training world today.  What a gift.

Rather than train the retrieve as you would for a dog, she reminded me to alter the task to suit the animal's natural behaviors.  She suggested that I train Gunnar to use his nose, rather than his mouth, to bring back a retrieve object.  Working with the nose is more natural for a pig. 

So, Gunnar and I set off to work on balancing a basket handle on his nose. It didn't take long at all.  I used cheese and juicy pears for reinforcers - delivering them into the basket right after he heard the click.  As he gradually learned to bring the basket over to me for the cheese and pear slices, I set the basket further and further away from me -and the rest is history.  A retrieve, taking the shape of a basket-carrying, little pot-bellied pig.  Thank you Karen.

Lessons learned: 

Ask for help when you need it  -and don't forget to think outside the box!