Day one report
Any time you bring a new animal home you expect a period of adjustment. Coming from a neglectful environment, one generally expects antisocial behavior like hiding, avoiding contact, even aggressive displays of anxiety. This period depends largely on the animal.
In the case of our yet-to-be-named ferret, this period was about an hour and a half last night. She wore herself out sniffing every corner of my study (three times), during which she had really no interest in us. After everything was properly sniffed, she lay down in the middle of the floor, allowed herself to be carried into her housing, burrowed into the sheets provided and, by all indicators, slept till morning.
When I walked in at 6 o`clock it was very clear she had more or less made up her mind that people are neat. As soon as she was out of her cage she was scrambling at my pantsleg until I picked her up. After a brief inspection of my face (which was apparently satisfactory), she wanted to be put down. We spent about two hours playing chase, taking turns between me chasing her until she decided to chase me. She was pretty disappointed the first time she caught me (I *clearly* didn't know the rules), but I made a better effort the next time, so all was well. The favored toys are all the things we've ever bought for the cats (which they've consistently ignored in favor of the box it came in), an empty aquarium we were storing (imagine a quadrupedal 4 year old on espresso in a sandbox... I found the bottom! YAY!), and a scrap of denim for tug-of-war and "catch" (I throw, she catches, throws back).
The one point where progress needs to be made in play is an understanding that my skin is MUCH more delicate than hers. Ferrets wrestle, and until taught otherwise, freely employ their teeth. A bit of research shed a lot of clarity on this: ferret skin is literally as durable and resistant to puncture as boot leather, so when playing with each other they can safely bite much harder than we find comfortable. Many new ferret owners misinterpret this as an aggressive or "warning" behavior, thinking that since this hurts them, the ferret intends to hurt them. An aggressive ferret bite is extremely rare (it takes years of abuse to overcome their natural affection for people), and does not hurt so much as it requires stitches.
The countless nips and scratches I've got on my hands and arms are affable play from an animal that hasn't had enough training to know that these hurt. According to the folks who know a lot more about this than I do, training is as simple as consistent feedback (grab em by the scruff of the neck until they "yawn", which is ferret for "uncle") and providing alternatives for play. This seems to be working, but it takes a while for it to really sink in.
Our ferret is 6 months old and undersocialized (as far as people are concerned). She's just starting to enter adolescence, and will be settled into adulthood at about 1 year old. The exploration obsession and frantic play in most adolescent ferrets give way to a general interest in mimicry, "assistance" (ferrets like to do whatever you're doing, and will often do their best to imitate movements and gestures), and inventing new games. One thing that's been a bit surprising as I've been doing research is that their functional intelligence is less comparable to a housecat than it is to the high end of dogs and lower primates, partly a product of breeding. Unlike other domestic animals which have been primarily bred for physical attributes, the domestic ferret has largely been bred for intelligence and affability, and has been for a long time. They're not a recent addition to the human home: Aristophanes makes several references to domestic ferrets in his plays.
We've made first introductions with the other furkids. The kitties showed great interest for about 5 minutes. Zoe, on the other hand, has been perpetually fascinated. I'm still not entirely sure how to interpret the behavior. She sits, nose to the cage, sitting down and staring. They've gone nose-to-nose a few times with no sign of aggression on either part, and our wee little weasal was kind enough to indulge Zoe with a lick. From all indicators they're VERY interested in each other, and not as snacks. We're going to take it slow for the next week, increasing contact, but the early signs seem to indicate that our hopes of getting Zoe a tiny playmate are going to pay off.
Now we just need a name. I'm hoping someone will come up with one before I do. Spayed females are called "sprites", and I've been reading Spencer's "Faery Queen", so if we're not careful the wee furry lady will wind up with some unpronouncable string of middle-english as a name.
In the case of our yet-to-be-named ferret, this period was about an hour and a half last night. She wore herself out sniffing every corner of my study (three times), during which she had really no interest in us. After everything was properly sniffed, she lay down in the middle of the floor, allowed herself to be carried into her housing, burrowed into the sheets provided and, by all indicators, slept till morning.
When I walked in at 6 o`clock it was very clear she had more or less made up her mind that people are neat. As soon as she was out of her cage she was scrambling at my pantsleg until I picked her up. After a brief inspection of my face (which was apparently satisfactory), she wanted to be put down. We spent about two hours playing chase, taking turns between me chasing her until she decided to chase me. She was pretty disappointed the first time she caught me (I *clearly* didn't know the rules), but I made a better effort the next time, so all was well. The favored toys are all the things we've ever bought for the cats (which they've consistently ignored in favor of the box it came in), an empty aquarium we were storing (imagine a quadrupedal 4 year old on espresso in a sandbox... I found the bottom! YAY!), and a scrap of denim for tug-of-war and "catch" (I throw, she catches, throws back).
The one point where progress needs to be made in play is an understanding that my skin is MUCH more delicate than hers. Ferrets wrestle, and until taught otherwise, freely employ their teeth. A bit of research shed a lot of clarity on this: ferret skin is literally as durable and resistant to puncture as boot leather, so when playing with each other they can safely bite much harder than we find comfortable. Many new ferret owners misinterpret this as an aggressive or "warning" behavior, thinking that since this hurts them, the ferret intends to hurt them. An aggressive ferret bite is extremely rare (it takes years of abuse to overcome their natural affection for people), and does not hurt so much as it requires stitches.
The countless nips and scratches I've got on my hands and arms are affable play from an animal that hasn't had enough training to know that these hurt. According to the folks who know a lot more about this than I do, training is as simple as consistent feedback (grab em by the scruff of the neck until they "yawn", which is ferret for "uncle") and providing alternatives for play. This seems to be working, but it takes a while for it to really sink in.
Our ferret is 6 months old and undersocialized (as far as people are concerned). She's just starting to enter adolescence, and will be settled into adulthood at about 1 year old. The exploration obsession and frantic play in most adolescent ferrets give way to a general interest in mimicry, "assistance" (ferrets like to do whatever you're doing, and will often do their best to imitate movements and gestures), and inventing new games. One thing that's been a bit surprising as I've been doing research is that their functional intelligence is less comparable to a housecat than it is to the high end of dogs and lower primates, partly a product of breeding. Unlike other domestic animals which have been primarily bred for physical attributes, the domestic ferret has largely been bred for intelligence and affability, and has been for a long time. They're not a recent addition to the human home: Aristophanes makes several references to domestic ferrets in his plays.
We've made first introductions with the other furkids. The kitties showed great interest for about 5 minutes. Zoe, on the other hand, has been perpetually fascinated. I'm still not entirely sure how to interpret the behavior. She sits, nose to the cage, sitting down and staring. They've gone nose-to-nose a few times with no sign of aggression on either part, and our wee little weasal was kind enough to indulge Zoe with a lick. From all indicators they're VERY interested in each other, and not as snacks. We're going to take it slow for the next week, increasing contact, but the early signs seem to indicate that our hopes of getting Zoe a tiny playmate are going to pay off.
Now we just need a name. I'm hoping someone will come up with one before I do. Spayed females are called "sprites", and I've been reading Spencer's "Faery Queen", so if we're not careful the wee furry lady will wind up with some unpronouncable string of middle-english as a name.