The blue jay fledglings are beginning to spend some time in the open. I wonder if it’s due to growing confidence, or if it’s more a matter of growing hunger. It seems to be a lot of work, keeping them fed…
blue jays
Birds and Dragonflies
The blue jay babies are fledged, but they haven’t started foraging on their own. They continue to rely on their parents for food. (More about the blue jays here, here, and here.) While the adults flit back and forth, the babies explore the densest parts of our wax myrtle (where I can’t get a picture of them), exercising their voices and wings. There are at least three fledglings, possibly four, though it sounds like there might be a dozen when they shriek in unison.
During occasional blue jay lulls, when the parents forage in other yards (or simply take a break from their raucous brood), doves and sparrows share a turn at the feeder.
The doves gulp seed in greedy excess, then settle on nearby perches to preen and stretch as they digest their meals.
Along with birds, the yard is filling with dragonflies. Eastern Pondhawks have joined last week’s Blue Dashers.
I’ve also seen two or three species I can’t identify, like this golden beauty. (My best guess is a female Needham’s Skimmer. Can anyone confirm or correct that ID?)
Today was hot and humid, just right for June. I mowed through the heat, then sat on the deck to enjoy a fitful breeze stirred by approaching storms. I was tempted, for a moment, to call the yard “mine”. But a burst of blue jay racket reminded me that it isn’t mine at all.
The Blue Jays vs The Cats
The blue jay eggs hatched sometime within the last week. Driven by feeding duties and protective instincts, the blue jay parents spend every daylight moment foraging and feuding.
When we first noticed their increased activity, my husband put a handful of seed on the deck railing. It quickly disappeared. The next day, he put out a little more seed, then waited with his camera. Now he and the blue jays share a daily ritual of feeding and photos.
The losers in this new relationship are the cats, who usually treasure these spring open-window weeks. Unfortunately, their favorite windows look onto the deck…
More from the Blue Jays
Nest complete, the blue jays spend hours on end in the wax myrtles. They defend their honeymoon suite with harsh calls and indignant attacks–innocent warblers fare no better than foraging crows. Rabbits aren’t allowed to graze in the yard, and the merest quiver of a squirrel whisker raises apocalyptic alarm.
Between these bouts of aggression, the lovers perch together and mumble softly to each other. They feed each other, public displays of “affection” that make me wonder about their behavioral chemistries. How does a body cope with such abrupt changes? They interrupt bonding with outbreaks of tumultuous fury, then switch back to bonding, over and over again in the course of a day. In the span of a minute, sometimes. The physiologic stress must be enormous, and yet it seems to work for them. How?
Blue Jay Nests
As a child, I both loved and dreaded blue jays. Beautiful and fierce, they are a permanent fixture in my summer memories. (See this poem.)
Last year, a pair of blue jays nested in our wax myrtle. They built on the far side of our fence, right over the sidewalk. It was a precarious choice, and I wasn’t too surprised when the nest failed.
Today, a new nest is taking shape. This time they chose the neighbor’s pear tree, a safer and more defensible position. They are using twigs from our wax myrtle, which makes for some fun photos, but I’m content to have them in someone else’s yard. They are, after all, quarrelsome birds.
Okay, that part about being content is a lie. I’m jealous. Maybe the babies will spend some time in our yard, as they learn to fly…
Rae Spencer 