PEANUT'S PROGRESS
The Journal and Journeys of a Macaw and Her Therapist
Susan Donohue came to The Midwest Avian and Adoption Services (MAARS) sanctuary, called “The Landing” in Spring 2009. As a volunteer staff member she was to assist the daily needs of the birds as well as provide guided healing to needy birds through individualized, relational therapy for resident birds who have been abused by human hands and come to sanctuary. Susan had never lived or worked with exotic birds, parrots and others who are not indigenous to North America, but had a vibrant desire to provide the specialized care for birds showing psychological distress and anxiety. Her testament typifies the work at MAARS and the dedication of their fine volunteer staff.
Journal Entry
"I first came to work at MAARS having no formal training or background in either avian studies or psychology. When I arrived at The Landing, MAARS’ sanctuary grounds, Dr. Joseph P. Yenkosky, a clinical psychologist, introduced me to a several week study in basic bird anatomy, psychology, and behavior. During this process, I learned a key element in understanding how important it is to match oneself, the caregiver/therapist, with a specific bird individual/client. It was critical that I first develop a trusting relationship with one of the parrots, and that the parrot would probably choose me rather than the other way around.
My work at MAARS began by doing typical volunteer shift duties that include cleaning cages and water dishes, giving birds their daily showers, and becoming familiar with the flock. After a couple months, a blue and gold macaw named Peanut started to show some interest in me, and a partnership was born.
Before coming to MAARS, Peanut lived for over ten years in a cage too small that did not even permit her to stretch her wings fully. Her right shoulder has atrophied. She cannot spread her wings or fly. The stress of confinement has caused her to pluck all the feathers from her chest and legs. We began to work together one-on-one with in the first week of August 2009.
At that time, she was very cautious of the volunteer staff. She perched far back in her cage, retreating from activity in the room or the attention of volunteers. She lunged and bit, and alienated herself from attention. Though volunteers had placed a large standing perch next to her cage so she could climb out, often she chose instead to remain in her enclosure.
On our first few sessions, I brought some treats. I knew she would take them cautiously from my hand if I could coax her to the front of her cage. We spent much of the sessions this way with me enticing her to come forward, and she taking the treat and retreating to the back of the cage. I told her what a pretty bird she was. She seemed to enjoy me singing to her and would bob her head up and down with the tune. She particularly liked “On the Street Where you Live” from My Fair Lady. In many ways we just hung out, like human friends do.
One month later, in September, she had learned to trust me enough to cautiously come out of her enclosure onto her perch. I made up a game of wiffle baseball, which she seemed to enjoy. I’d hand the ball to her and she’d grab a hole with her beak or claw. She would then throw or drop it, depending on her mood. If I caught the ball, it was considered a “strike.” If I missed it, it was a “ball. “ Much praise and adoration when I caught it. She struck out more than a player or two.
Peanut loves treats, and by mid-September, she was hanging out in the front of her cage or on her perch, awaiting my visit and an almond. I experimented with gently touching her tail feathers and under her wings, as she permitted. Occasionally, I could get in a head scratch before she nipped.
I thought if I could get her to step up on me, we would reach a milestone of trust. (“Stepping up” , where the bird is invited to walk up to sit onto a human hand or arm, is considered a key part of the process of relationship-building.) I began by putting a treat on the backside of my fist. First she reached out as if to bite me. We tried it again, and again, once more. She took the treat. I moved the almond farther and farther up my arm so she was taking the treat where she would normally step up. We made these activities part of our routine so that Peanut would become comfortable with my visits.
By the beginning of October, volunteers were commenting how Peanut now hung out in the front of her cage and seemed more vocal and engaged with the activity in the room; she was even friendlier to the volunteers. Peanut was also more interested in playing with the toys in her cage and on perch. I continued to visit and use our familiar routine.
In mid-November, I knew our work had made a difference. Peanut stepped onto my arm, though she seemed uncomfortable and nervous. I was sure she sensed my initial inexperience and hesitation, but I thought that was a big step, and she did it twice.
Then, one day one of MAARS’ volunteers, Maggie, came into the room. Peanut seemed interested in her, although Maggie says she is afraid of Peanut. Maggie gingerly offered her a step up onto her arm, which Peanut took. Then Maggie held Peanut close to her chest while petting and scratching her head. Peanut was in heaven and had her eyes closed for the grooming! I have never seen her so calm and content. She did that twice for Maggie. We just couldn’t believe our eyes. I must admit I was envious, but then I realized that the work we’d been doing allowed Peanut the courage to make a new friend in Maggie. In the concept and language of psychotherapy, the therapeutic alliance, the relationship and trust that Peanut and I forged together, provided the first stepping stone of security and confidence that encouraged Peanut to extend her “locus of control” beyond her cage and explore new physical and emotional territory. This simple shift signaled the revitalization of her sense of agency, the sense of being an instrument of her own life and decisions.
I hope there will be many more friends to trust. Needless to say, when I tried the same offering after Maggie, before I left for home, I got the snap. Oh, well. Tomorrow’s another day."
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The Journal and Journeys of a Macaw and Her Therapist
Susan Donohue came to The Midwest Avian and Adoption Services (MAARS) sanctuary, called “The Landing” in Spring 2009. As a volunteer staff member she was to assist the daily needs of the birds as well as provide guided healing to needy birds through individualized, relational therapy for resident birds who have been abused by human hands and come to sanctuary. Susan had never lived or worked with exotic birds, parrots and others who are not indigenous to North America, but had a vibrant desire to provide the specialized care for birds showing psychological distress and anxiety. Her testament typifies the work at MAARS and the dedication of their fine volunteer staff.
Journal Entry
"I first came to work at MAARS having no formal training or background in either avian studies or psychology. When I arrived at The Landing, MAARS’ sanctuary grounds, Dr. Joseph P. Yenkosky, a clinical psychologist, introduced me to a several week study in basic bird anatomy, psychology, and behavior. During this process, I learned a key element in understanding how important it is to match oneself, the caregiver/therapist, with a specific bird individual/client. It was critical that I first develop a trusting relationship with one of the parrots, and that the parrot would probably choose me rather than the other way around.
My work at MAARS began by doing typical volunteer shift duties that include cleaning cages and water dishes, giving birds their daily showers, and becoming familiar with the flock. After a couple months, a blue and gold macaw named Peanut started to show some interest in me, and a partnership was born.
Before coming to MAARS, Peanut lived for over ten years in a cage too small that did not even permit her to stretch her wings fully. Her right shoulder has atrophied. She cannot spread her wings or fly. The stress of confinement has caused her to pluck all the feathers from her chest and legs. We began to work together one-on-one with in the first week of August 2009.
On our first few sessions, I brought some treats. I knew she would take them cautiously from my hand if I could coax her to the front of her cage. We spent much of the sessions this way with me enticing her to come forward, and she taking the treat and retreating to the back of the cage. I told her what a pretty bird she was. She seemed to enjoy me singing to her and would bob her head up and down with the tune. She particularly liked “On the Street Where you Live” from My Fair Lady. In many ways we just hung out, like human friends do.
One month later, in September, she had learned to trust me enough to cautiously come out of her enclosure onto her perch. I made up a game of wiffle baseball, which she seemed to enjoy. I’d hand the ball to her and she’d grab a hole with her beak or claw. She would then throw or drop it, depending on her mood. If I caught the ball, it was considered a “strike.” If I missed it, it was a “ball. “ Much praise and adoration when I caught it. She struck out more than a player or two.
Peanut loves treats, and by mid-September, she was hanging out in the front of her cage or on her perch, awaiting my visit and an almond. I experimented with gently touching her tail feathers and under her wings, as she permitted. Occasionally, I could get in a head scratch before she nipped.
I thought if I could get her to step up on me, we would reach a milestone of trust. (“Stepping up” , where the bird is invited to walk up to sit onto a human hand or arm, is considered a key part of the process of relationship-building.) I began by putting a treat on the backside of my fist. First she reached out as if to bite me. We tried it again, and again, once more. She took the treat. I moved the almond farther and farther up my arm so she was taking the treat where she would normally step up. We made these activities part of our routine so that Peanut would become comfortable with my visits.
By the beginning of October, volunteers were commenting how Peanut now hung out in the front of her cage and seemed more vocal and engaged with the activity in the room; she was even friendlier to the volunteers. Peanut was also more interested in playing with the toys in her cage and on perch. I continued to visit and use our familiar routine.
In mid-November, I knew our work had made a difference. Peanut stepped onto my arm, though she seemed uncomfortable and nervous. I was sure she sensed my initial inexperience and hesitation, but I thought that was a big step, and she did it twice.
Then, one day one of MAARS’ volunteers, Maggie, came into the room. Peanut seemed interested in her, although Maggie says she is afraid of Peanut. Maggie gingerly offered her a step up onto her arm, which Peanut took. Then Maggie held Peanut close to her chest while petting and scratching her head. Peanut was in heaven and had her eyes closed for the grooming! I have never seen her so calm and content. She did that twice for Maggie. We just couldn’t believe our eyes. I must admit I was envious, but then I realized that the work we’d been doing allowed Peanut the courage to make a new friend in Maggie. In the concept and language of psychotherapy, the therapeutic alliance, the relationship and trust that Peanut and I forged together, provided the first stepping stone of security and confidence that encouraged Peanut to extend her “locus of control” beyond her cage and explore new physical and emotional territory. This simple shift signaled the revitalization of her sense of agency, the sense of being an instrument of her own life and decisions.
I hope there will be many more friends to trust. Needless to say, when I tried the same offering after Maggie, before I left for home, I got the snap. Oh, well. Tomorrow’s another day."
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