Two Jays and a Friendship

May 12, 2011

I spot the jay fearlessly entering my yard, land perfectly on my fake-redwood fence and listen to it chatter.

“Hello, Mr. Jay,” I say encouraging his visits, excited that a beauty, such as this royal blue flapper, chose our garden to plop down for a breather, even if for a short time.

I don’t know if my amiable welcome brought him back, but the jay returns now as soon as I walk out in the backyard, whirling by me and again landing on the fence, then the pine tree and finally swooping by as though he too wants to say hi to my waves and smiles.

“Whaa --hack…whahack…whack,” he seems to say with a screech. “Whaaaaaaack…. Whaaack.”

Days go by and I happily go out to garden in the warm sun with my two dogs, just to see if the jay will return. He does, time and time again, but because he has no crest like the mountain jays I’ve witnessed, I begin to wonder what type of bird blesses us with his presence.

Finally, I settle on the stunning Western Scrub-Jay and discover jays in general have a complicated family life, mating system and that females have the carbon-copy plumage of males! This is a rarity in the world of feathers, where the males seem to get the handsome, colorful tints and hues while the females land more drab shades – at least to us.

Later, I learn on a crisp, cool morning with mist threading its way through the yard  that I’m not seeing one jay but two as they land on my rooftop and raucously squawk at me, their azure blue silhouettes cocking from side to side. They are telling me they are making this their home: a nest.

One of the jays flies down from the rooftop and settles on my porch railing, peering at me and screeching: “Whaaaaaaaaaaackahacka….Whacka!”

I can’t believe it when he – or she – lands on our porch railing where our big cat, Buddy, lies curled up just a few feet away. Buddy is aggressive, to say the least, and the main reason we have so many tailless lizards in our yard.

Buddy appears not to care, and neither does the jay. It might not be the jays that need to worry – it might be the cat.  Jays and their relations, like crows, will mob creatures that try to attack them – or their nests.

I can’t help but worry about the soon-to-come chirping babies, but it doesn’t matter what I think.  The mom and dad like it here in the yard, shadows stretching in the morning over an abundance of unwanted crabgrass and other weeds. Most of our regular plants must make do in the shadows of our cypress and pine.  Some of them seldom catch the sun’s warming rays.

I know my husband won’t like it (he says nature takes care of itself), but I set out a few nuts for my new buddies – acquaintances that certainly show their appreciation by squawking with more “whaaahacks…” and returning the next morning with precious hellos.

I still haven’t discovered where their nest is – but that doesn’t matter. I know they are planning a home, and that brings me great pleasure.

“Hey!” my husband shouts excitedly into the yard. “Have you noticed we have a blue jay visiting?”