I recently received an email from a longtime reader named Irene. The message was short and succinct, but it really made an impression on me when I read it. In short (because it was short) she wrote: “Don’t you just love blue jays? They are such sassy little guys. Well, actually, NOT so little!”
I couldn’t agree more. These birds are among the superstars of the back yard and I thought they deserved a little extra attention this week. So Irene, this one’s for you.
My love affair with blue jays started back when I was a very young child. There was a birdfeeder in the window of our family room and it was the sort of platform feeder that could appeal to all sorts of different species. The roof of this feeder had a wooden frame that supported a sheet of plexiglass (think of a picture frame and you’ve got the right idea) and on the inside of the sidewalls there were little cribs for suet and other treats. Mounted directly to the side of the house, this feeder brought birds within inches of the window glass.
It wasn’t a particularly small feeder, but it was still small enough that the blue jays had to lower their heads to gain entry. Flying in from the oak tree in the back yard, the blue jays would usually land on the roof of the feeder, take a look around, and then use a clever little maneuver to drop to the feeder floor while executing a 180 in the air. Once inside the feeder, the jays looked absolutely enormous and if I remained very still I could get a wonderful look at them up close and personal.
At about a foot in length, blue jays are definitely among the larger birds that will show up at our feeders. Much of this length is accounted for by their long, beautiful tails and the presence of their conspicuous head crests gives them a rather dashing look. Even before they do anything you can tell you are dealing with a bunch of characters and that is what makes these birds so endearing; they have character!
Spending the winter in extended family flocks, blue jays have the ability to dominate almost any situation by arriving in numbers. It isn’t unusual for me to have 6 to 10 blue jays at my feeders on a winter morning, but back on Jan. 17 I recorded an astonishing 17 individuals at the same time.
I’m sure that temperatures below zero and 7 inches of fresh snow contributed to this number, but that is an amazing amount of energy in one place at one time. The birds were bouncing around on the railings of my deck, dive-bombing each other and causing a general ruckus. For the observer it was pure joy.
And I’ve definitely noticed an odd pattern in the behavior of the jays that I can’t quite account for. The birds are not the first to the feeders. They generally arrive en masse just after sunrise and then stay for a good chunk of the morning. However, there is nary a jay to be seen at the feeders on winter afternoons when I get home from work. The chickadees are always there, impatiently waiting for dinner to be served, but never a jay. I would love to know where they all go.
In my imagination I can see a large assemblage of jays in a secret section of the forest where they all gather in parliamentary fashion and share stories and opinions with the flock. This is no doubt the result of my deep love for stories that personify wild animals. As a scientist I am fully aware that these are wild animals that need no such personification to earn our admiration, but the child that still lives in my head remembers the Disney movies of the 1970s and sees the birds tucked inside the safe confines of a spruce tree.
The tree is a hollow cone and a small campfire burns down on the ground. The birds in the upper branches (the mezzanine of this private theater) consist of mother jays and their young children who are showing signs of getting sleepy. Down on center stage some of the older birds are arguing about something (jays always seem to be in mild conflict with one another) and each jay has a slightly different shape with a voice to complete the illusion of personality. Their discussion is earnest, but the observer takes delight in the ridiculous details.
What will be done about the suet shortage? Can anyone prevent the teenagers from engaging their daredevil antics? Who took the acorn that was being saved for next week’s great feast?
In the springtime the larger winter flocks will disperse as the birds prepare for the breeding season and the behavior of the birds changes drastically. Instead of making a great deal of noise the birds shift into ninja mode and start skulking around their territories as they look for food to feed their chicks. It’s at that point that being a large, loud, blue bird might make things a little difficult, so they tone down the behaviors that attract a lot of attention. But if a pair brings their freshly-fledged family to your feeders you will be in for a wild ride. Baby jays are pure energy; the puppies of the bird world.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 24 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or head over to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.