Tag Archives: blue jay

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Early Morning Adventure

I set out on my morning walk, energized by the bright sun, blue skies and low humidity. About a half mile down the road, I spied something on the road further ahead of me. It was almost triangular in shape, larger at its base and rising to a sort of peak. What was it?

It didn’t look like a branch or bundle of leaves… Was it an animal? Was it a bird? I peered ahead. What could it be?

A car drove down the road, narrowly missing the object. As the car passed, the whatever-it-was lifted up a bit and shifted around. Oh, it’s definitely alive. That looked a bit like flapping. I think it’s a bird!

I picked up my pace. As I neared the object, I could see that it was most definitely a bird. In fact, it was a blue jay.

Another car came around the corner and I waved it to the other side of the road, away from the bird. After it passed, I knelt down and assessed. The bird looked a bit disheveled, but wasn’t obviously injured. The tail feathers were quite short, which made me think it might be a juvenile. I looked up and around. Where had it come from? I didn’t see a nest, although there were plenty of trees overhanging the road.

The main thing was to get it to a safer spot. I placed my hands closer to it, and it immediately hopped up and down agitatedly. That seemed like a good sign, health-wise, but it clearly didn’t want me to touch it. Still, I needed to get it out of the road. I reached down again, nudging it gently toward the edge of the pavement but met with little success.

“Come on, buddy,” I said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

I was pretty sure I was going to need to pick it up. I looked askance at its beak, which appeared quite large. Potentially painfully large. I considered my options and opted to procrastinate by taking a photo while I was at it. (See how big that beak is!?)

“You’re not going to peck me if I pick you up, are you?” I asked.

Then, figuring it really couldn’t do that much damage, I reached down, crouching and slowly cupped my hands around the bird, simultaneously moving toward the edge of the pavement.

Suddenly, SQUAWK!!!!! SQUAWK!!!! SQUAWK!!!!

A crescendo of piercing squawks of protest filled the air. How could something that loud come from this small bird?! Thoreau apparently described the jay’s ear-splitting call as a “steel cold scream”, and in this instance, I couldn’t disagree! I was so surprised that my hands flew open and the bird tumbled out of them, somersaulting onto the grass. It looked at me indignantly, but appeared none the worse for wear.

“Well, I’m sorry,” I said, defensively, “but I wasn’t expecting that!”

With the bird safely out of the road, I decided to leave it where it was and continue my walk.

“If you’re still here when I get back,” I told it, “I’ll be taking you home with me.”

Whether that was threat enough or not, I don’t know, but upon my return, about a half hour later, the jay was nowhere in sight. My ears were still ringing though!

It was quite an early morning adventure!

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SOL: Blue Jay Gratitude

slice-of-life_individualI owe such a debt to the birds–maybe even my sanity these days (that’s assuming I still have it). However I’m feeling, watching the birds takes me out of myself and lifts my mood. It’s a combination of meditation and treasure hunt.

At this time of year, newcomers abound at the feeders and through the yard and there’s so much to see. Orioles linger at orange halves, red breasted grosbeaks sing in a nearby apple tree. You might see a finch flapping his wings wildly to woo his lady love, or a hummingbird arcing through the sky in a pendulum flight display. Some days I’m rewarded with a glimpse of a migrating warbler hopping through trees or shrubs. Recently, I delighted in seeing a chestnut sided warbler and a black and white warbler within minutes.  All this in my own yard.

I sometimes feel guilty about the blue jays, though. They are here year-round, so I tend to overlook them as loud and pesky regulars. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, and it truly is so with blue jays. If I’d never seen one before and one flew by my window, I’d be rapt–delirious with joy at the beauty of the brilliant blue, the raised crest, and the bold black and white markings. Since they’re here daily though, I tend to disregard them.

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Yesterday, however, I looked up from my computer at the insistent call of a blue jay. I nearly turned away again–not much to see there. Just a jay. It’s so easy to overlook or disparage this common bird with its gluttonous, swaggering behavior. It swoops in like it owns the place. Big, bold and brassy! But yesterday, my eyes lingered.

Have you ever watched a blue jay squawk? Really watched? I’d never noticed before, but it invests its entire body, lifting and stretching with each call. This jay sat on the platform feeder squawking away, bobbing up and down. Sun filtered along its back, highlighting the softer blue, then illuminating the lower brilliant blue, black and white feathers like stained glass. The jay stopped squawking only to eat the choicest seeds. It cocked its head, contemplated its choice and then tucked each one away. I wondered at its capacity–how many could it fit!?– reminded that jays had a role in reforesting the land with oak trees after the glaciers retreated. Amazing! Finally, the jay retreated to the tree tops where it commenced squawking again, its momentum setting the thin branches swaying. Other jays joined it in a raucous chorus that literally set the treetops into motion.  

I often think of how much I miss by simply not paying attention. There are so many things to amaze and delight within the commonplace. Yesterday I was grateful to the blue jay for reminding me.

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blue jay enjoying peanuts at a different feeder

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