The Blue Jay

The Sentinel

AI generated blue jay

I sat out on my porch drinking my morning coffee as usual, casually observing the birds and squirrels going about their business. There’s a starlings’ nest under the eaves of the house across the street. The pair come and go, flying fast above the street, amazing me with their agility by make a sharp right-angle turn and zipping through the small hole into their nest. The pair built that nest two years ago, and each spring return to lay their eggs and raise their young.

This morning was gray, chilly and drizzly and I savored my coffee, warm in the mug. I make it by adding a heaping teaspoon of cocoa, a little half and half and cinnamon and nutmeg. It’s my morning treat to accompany my Zen moment on the porch. I surveyed the neighborhood and listened to the sounds. Starlings cackled and began calling, sparrows chattered and chirped and quieted, a squirrel across the street began squawking, squawking, squawking and a recent neighborhood resident, the blue jay, flew in, perched on the overhead wire and commenced a loud, reverberating calling.

The day before, my friend R had sent me a short video accompanied by a snippet of music that precedes the blue bird pas de deux in Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty ballet composition. But this morning the visitor was a blue jay, not a blue bird, and he had not come to awaken the princess.

Uh-oh. A predator is about, I thought, some kind of hawk. The squirrel, starlings and blue jay are sending out the warning.

I looked up at the sky. I didn’t have to look far up. A crow flew in and landed on the street by the curb. It had a juvenile starling nearly in its beak. Suddenly out of nowhere a huge flock of birds mobbed the crow, all kinds of birds — starlings, sparrows, mockingbirds, all led by the blue jay. They flew at the crow, pecking it. The crows feathers were a mess, but it was persistent. Now it appeared to have the little starling by the neck, in its beak. The blue jay flew at the crow and pecked it viciously on the head, the other birds pecking the crow’s body. They were within 20 feet of me, right in front of me in the street. I leaned back, pressed close to the back of my chair. I felt like I was in the movie, The Birds. A little squirrel climbed onto my porch and huddled in the corner between the plant cart and the rose bush. Then it sat up on its haunches and looked at me, just looked at me, as if to say, “What’s going on? Am I safe? What shall I do?”

The jay beat at the crow and the other birds continued pecking. The crow let go and flew away. But not far. The little starling was safe. It flew to safety surrounded by its flock. The jay hung out on the wire above, keeping watch. The crow flew back. The jay chased it and pecked it. The other birds kept at safe distance. The crow tried again. The jay squawked and called, warning that the crow was still around. It continued to chase the crow.

Finally the crow flew off into the distance. The squirrel slipped off my porch. And the sentinel jay, his job done, flew off towards the tall trees and another realm of endeavor.

I wonder, though, why did the blue jay take up residence in the neighborhood just at mating time? Was he protecting the young of all the other birds in the neighborhood, like those of the pair of starlings across the street? Or had the jay been eyeing the nests so to grab those eggs for himself before the crow got them…?

~Samantha

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