The best way to describe what is meant by "complexity" is to go to the
woods, sit on the ground, and record as many different smells, sounds,
situations and things as possible.  If you do the job correctly, as a
ferret would, it could take days.  An area the size of a front room in
a typical wooded forest is incredibly complex, with quite literally
thousands of potential investigations, foods, smells, sights, tastes,
textures, sounds, physical challenges, problems to solve, and other
things, ALL positive mental and physical enrichments.  Contrast that
with the typical cage containing a litter box, water bottle, food dish,
hammock, and a couple of toys.  The typical cage environment is the
opposite of a complex one; it is sterile to the ferret caged within.
 
The reason ferrets find typical caging conditions spartan is because they
are domesticated polecats, and polecats are the end product of millions
of years of evolution, having survived the complexity of the wooded
forests and grasslands of Europe and Asia.  They not only have the tools
to survive in such an environment, but the mental abilities as well,
including high intelligence, superb memory, and advanced problem-solving
skills.  Because of these abilities, MOST cages are the ferret equivalent
of solitary confinement for humans, with little to investigate and even
less to experience.  If you really stop and think about it, housing
ferrets in environmentally barren cages is a form of cruelty--in this
case, mental cruelty.  Even in the presence of toys and other ferrets,
most cages are such bleak environments that ferrets sleep their lives
away, stress out, or spend much of their waking moments in a struggle to
find a way out of the cage.  The solution is to add complexity to both
the cage environment as well as to the play experience.  A complex cage
environment is not necessarily one filled with a transplanted forest.
While forests--by their very nature--are complex environments, such
complexity can be approximated in an artificial environment by following
a few simple rules.
 
First, assume the largest possible cage is WAY too small.  Depending on
the richness of the local ecology, polecats can have a territory the size
of a city block, which means they must be quite active to monitor the
boundaries and chase off interlopers, find enough food to survive, locate
shelter from weather and predators, and make babies.  There is no cage
in the world, not even a free-roam house, that can approximate such an
environment.  This is why I argued earlier that it wasn't the size of
the cage--rabbit hutch or free roam home--that was important, but the
CONDITIONS of captivity.  You simply cannot design a cage (or home) large
enough to accommodate a ferret's physical and emotional needs for space.
Accept it and move on.
 
Second, complexity BY ITSELF is just as limiting as novelty by itself.
Remember the toy that was energetically investigated, then either hauled
away to anguish in a dusty hidey-hole, or just ignored altogether?  Once
novelty wears off, if the toy has no other redeeming value it will be
abandoned.  Complexity is the same way; there has to be some sort of
"newness" to the environment to insure ferrets will be prodded to
continue exploring it.  This can be done by frequently hiding "browse"
in different locations; that is, hiding treats within the "complex
landscape" for ferrets to, well, ferret out.  I clean the room, rearrange
or replace the playground furniture, change the bedding, spread a liberal
amount of sweet hay and straw on the floor (increases odor, sound and
textural complexity, AND sops up messes!), and add "browse" treats
liberally around the room.  You should see the ferrets when I let them
back it!
 
Third, complexity isn't exactly associated with clutter, but the two are
very hard to keep separate.  Ferrets LIKE clutter, and clutter challenges
ferrets in physical and sensory ways that a clean, open floor cannot.  If
you want a room to be complex, it will follow that it is also quite
cluttered.  If you don't like clutter, consider trading your ferrets in
for pet rocks.
 
Fourth, complexity challenges MULTIPLE systems, not one.  A complex
environment should challenge the ferret's problem-solving skills, memory,
physical body, and senses (smell, vision, taste, hearing, touch).  My
ferrets die for baby chicken, so I dip a sponge in a diluted solution,
then create "trails" within the room that can be tracked down to an area
containing some sort of physical or mental barrier that has to be
overcome to obtain the treat.
 
Fifth, just because an old or sick ferret is old or ill, it doesn't
necessarily follow they no longer have a need for complex challenges.
Just modify complex enrichments for the individual ferret.  For example,
Tori the Tiger is blind and needs daily care.  She in not capable of
completing many enrichments, especially the physical ones, but each day
I give her new odors to sniff, new foods, and allow her the dignity of
choosing foods and bedding.  The need for enrichment might be considered
by some even more important for the old or ill.
 
Last, the greatest complexity is found in situations that are not
scripted.  If the ferret cannot predict what will happen, then they
are challenged all the more.  One of the hardest things to predict
is physical play with an owner.  Physical play is a very effective
enrichment, as I will discuss at greater length at a later time.  Just
being in an area with human activity can be a complex enrichment.
 
Bob C
[Posted in FML issue 4197]