In wildlife rehabilitation we are sometimes driven to house species that would never come within a hundred feet of one another in the same 10 ft by 10 ft enclosure. Since we become very attached to the charges we take care of, we try to house bird species together that will get along with each other. 

Sometimes we make a guess at who will tolerate whom. Sometimes we make mistakes, and have to remove a "killer bird" who seems bent on beating up everyone (including those of its own species), and sometimes we find amazingly tolerant birds (usually juveniles) who avoid conflict and even seem to "protect" a weak individual of their own species. I dislike ascribing human feelings to birds (anthropomorphism), but sometimes it's easier to use human terms to describe the behavior.

Earlier in the year several great blue heron fledglings were brought in for rehabilitation. These birds had suffered a variety of problems. One very small individual had fallen out of its nest in Oceanside and walked around on the ground trying to forage. It was small, skinny and weak. With some trepidation I placed it with three other juveniles, all older but not in the best of shape. The largest of these seemed to take it upon itself to "protect" the small one. When one of the other two birds pecked at the small bird, his buddy moved to the front and did a defensive beak clack. 

At feeding time the two friends ate their fish at the bowl together, and in the evening the small bird stood in the corner with his buddy. On release although they flew initially in two different directions, one circled back and landed within a few feet of its "friend."

Other species that seem to strike up "friendships" are western grebes, which seems more understandable in birds that form flocks as grebes do. It still surprises and charms me that if two grebes are in captivity together and swim together on a pool, when release time comes (and I do try to release these birds in little groups) they swim off together in unison keeping within a few feet of each other.

Some interactions are not so friendly. Right now we happen to be getting juvenile cormorants with foot or wing injuries (usually caused by hooks and line). Cormorants can be aggressive, (and some of us have the scars to prove it!) but again being sociable birds they usually get along with each other. Because of housing space, I decided to put an aggressive late season juvenile black-crowned night heron in with two juvenile Brandt's cormorants. 

Night herons usually get along in a group of other herons, but this juvenile was alone because it had attacked other juvenile and adult black-crowns night herons, perhaps because someone had hand raised it without any heron companions. Since it needed aviary time, and since cormorants can easily defend themselves, I thought this might work out. Well, Mr. Heron was not pleased when fish arrived at the flight cage in a bowl and the cormorants dived in to eat. If herons could be said to have expressions, this one would express amazement and outrage. The heron danced forward and pecked the first cormorant on the neck. 

Cormorants have a mean beak, and I got ready to intervene, but the cormorant, making the typical hoarse whines and grunts, simply jumped sideways, hopped over the dish and continued to eat. Next, the heron with a scream, leaped to the other side as well and tried desperately to swallow fish as fast as the cormorants. The young heron poked cormorant number two also at this point. Number two ignored the pokes (although it looked painful to me) rapidly grabbed several mouthfuls of fish, and with throat bulging waddled off on those big black feet like Charlie Chaplin. 

The heron returned to the bowl and found only one fish left. Screaming at the fish and waggling its wings in frustration the heron turned, fish in beak (it was too full to swallow the fish but didn't want the cormorant to get it) and tried to make a menacing gesture at cormorant number one. To my amusement the cormorant neatly swiped the fish straight from the heron's mouth and leapt away swallowing its prize as it went. The heron seemed beside itself. It stared at the empty bowl, clucked in puzzlement at the ground, and threw a heron temper tantrum screeching at the world and these dreadful cormorants.

Although cormorants are clumsier on land than herons, their swift snake-like head movements and the fast rushing tackles from two directions had defeated the heron. I could not decide if the heron showed no fear of the cormorants damaging beaks because of inexperience, or if it just had more guts the common sense!