At the end of August, I wrote a column about the developmental progress of the blue jays that live in and around my yard. It was just as school was starting up for the year and the baby blue jays had entered a ridiculous stage in their maturation in which they had lost the feathers on their heads. This “ugly duckling” phase is something that can be seen in young birds every year, but the blue jays traveled in large numbers and their gruesome appearance was actually adorable.
Back then, just two months ago, there were also some very interesting behavioral characteristics that would have easily identified them as youngsters even without their physical appearance. They were all proficient fliers, but there was definitely an “I’m new to this vibe” as they made their way from one place to another. Their flight was proficient, but there was a fluttery quality to it. Perhaps I need to explain this a little better.
The young jays were flapping their wings and moving from place to place, but their air speed didn’t quite match up with the number of wingbeats that I saw. This gave them the appearance of moths more than birds. They weren’t embarrassing themselves, but they did come off as being a little tentative, like a young kid who has just had the training wheels removed from a bicycle. Progress had been made, but the general rate of movement was still slow and cautious.
Even when their head feathers grew back, it was still fairly easy to distinguish between the young birds and their parents. The older birds were pure business, while the youngsters were a little more laid back about everything that they did. All of the local jays would visit me down in the meadow for the peanuts that I tossed out for them. The adults were decisive in their peanut-gathering behavior, while their children seemed a little less focused. That’s kids, right?
Fast forward to Oct. 28 and things had changed significantly. Now, instead of being slower than their parents, the young birds were doing everything at warp speed. They had entered their “daredevil” stage and they seemed determined to outdo each other in everything that they did. They didn’t just land on the ground and pick up a peanut. Now they pounced on each peanut with great speed and energy, almost as if they were pretending to be lions capturing zebras.
By far the most impressive feats that they performed were their flights down the hill to the spot where my Thinking Chair sits at the edge of the meadow. The young birds always seemed to enjoy the chance to gain a little altitude up by the house and then enter into shallow dives as they headed down to where I was waiting for them. But now they have started pushing things to the limits. Everything has gotten faster, faster, faster.
Oct. 28 was a beautiful morning, but it was very cold and the meadow was almost entirely abandoned. The catbirds, towhees, and sparrows were all gone and only the local chickadees, titmice, woodpeckers and jays were present. For this reason, a gang of eight Blue Jays was easy to pay attention to. Not only were they the only game in town, but they were really putting on a show. Somehow, they had figured out how to make their flights at what felt like double their original speed. Not only could you see it, but you could also hear it.
Anyone who has ever played catch with a baseball will be able to recognize that a moving object can pass through the air without making a whole lot of noise. But when someone starts putting a little mustard on the ball, its motion through the air can start to make a bit of a hissing sound. The faster the ball moves, the more noise it makes.
Well, that is where the young blue jays are in their development. Some of these daredevils were moving so quickly (with wings slightly tucked in the fashion of a falcon stooping on its prey) that they were making noise as they sliced through the air. They also appeared to revel in the speed at which they made different maneuvers. There seemed to be a contest about who could pull out of their dives at the last possible moment, or who could made the tightest turns at the highest speeds. All totally unnecessary, but wildly entertaining for the jays and their observer alike.
As with any phase, this one will be short-lived. At some point the jays will “grow up” and they will become much more businesslike in everything that they do. These mad dashes will be replaced with flights that are direct, but more prudent. For now, however, it is joyous to watch the birds having fun for the sake of having fun. My last visit to the Thinking Chair for the 2026 season may not have produced a long list of species, but I was able to see the local daredevils at their height. It was wondrous to behold, and I am still smiling about it.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 29 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 information visit www.speakingofnature.com, Speaking of Nature on Facebook, or the Speaking of Nature Podcast.