Blue Jay I

 

Blue Jay

The Blue Jay is a dependable year-round companion on Halibut Point. Even when things are quiet it makes itself known in a way that makes you feel acknowledged. It seems very deliberate in its movements and social network. Its flamboyant plumage pattern and brassy voice suggest a comfort with itself and with us ground-dwelling humans as we amble along below.

But do we really know what's going on in that Blue Jay mind?

Considering how often I've seen Blue Jays, I realized how little I knew about them.

It's a little like my unrequited relationship with the Kingfisher, of whom I've written recently.

One day a Blue Jay joined this Kingfisher on a lofty perch. I'm not sure if they exchanged words. The Kingfisher turned its head for a look at the intruder.

 

The Kingfisher gave the Blue Jay the ultimate snub of ignoring it, and resumed its forward gaze over the realm.

The building spectacle attracted a second Blue Jay as the valiant First Challenger took to the air.

The Kingfisher whom I've previously censured as The Devil Bird had only a moment to react. Was I witnessing an exorcism?

The Blue Jay extended itself to its full span, formidable bill in the lead. Did it resent the Kingfisher's blue plumage, rakish crest, and maniacal screech as competing claims on its own distinctions? Was it out to expunge the intruder?

Evidently the Blue Jay's sally failed to change the order of things on that barren perch. The natural world flinched but held in this battle of incorrigible spirits.

I was going to have to sharpen my investigation of the Blue Jay.

Upside-down Birds

What does it take to spend time upside-down?

Chickadee

It's a combination of leg strength and light weight, such as you find in some small birds like finches and this chickadee. By feeding upside-down they are able  to investigate places that they otherwise wouldn’t be able to reach. Perhaps not competitors, either. 

Downy Woodpecker

Some species with very strong legs do well hanging below stout branches.

Cedar Waxwing

Others stretch themselves without unusual anatomy, for a bird, and can reach down occasionally, 

Black-and-white Warbler

A few songbirds like this Black-and-white Warbler are adept at gleaning insects from the crevices of tree bark, in almost any body position. Then can look for prey from all angles.

White-breasted Nuthatch

White-breasted Nuthatches defy logic by seeming to walk down tree trunks in their search for food. How do they hold on? How do they manage excessive blood flow to their heads?

As they descend, nuthatches alternately catch and release themselves by the claw on their hind toe. In a sense they maneuver by skillfully falling down the tree.

Red-breasted Nuthatch

Nuthatches exploit a different niche from other birds even in the same tree. Seeds that they store in the bark from an upside-down position might be less visible to other birds.

Brown Creeper

A nuthatch lookalike, the Brown Creeper, almost always works its way from the bottom to the top of a tree. It has similarly oversized feet and claws for its lifestyle but longer, stiff tail feathers for propping itself upright. It's a slightly different niche specialist that rarely goes upside down.

All through the natural world creatures are adapting to their circumstances, even upside down.

The Least of These

 

The Birdcase, Peabody Essex Museum

Sandpipers grouped just above the boy's head

During a visit to the Peabody Essex Museum this week I was struck by how small the preserved birds appeared to be. The little shorebirds in particular gave a smaller impression than my sense of them on the coastal edges of Halibut Point. The tiniest of all, the Least Sandpiper, was said to weigh about the same as a penny.

Least Sandpiper

A penny? This sparrow-sized bantam spends its life navigating the natural forces of wind and water.

Least Sandpipers can be found regularly along our coast during the migration season, en route from tundra breeding grounds to wintering territories in South America. When they leave here they may fly nonstop more than 2,000 miles over the ocean.

It seems ironic that these creatures look bigger in the vast landscape than they do in the two-dimensional proximity of the glass case.

The sandpipers hunt energetically along the tide line for the miniscule morsels that fuel their journey.

Their plucky animation in the world of their being fulfills a presence and purpose that shrinks to a shadow when that life force is extinguished and brought indoors.

Cattail Revelations

 

Cattails have found their wind-blown way to the quarry margins.

Cattail Corner

They have steadily enlarged their domain in Cattail Corner with a root mass extending over submerged ledges and engulfing an old beaver lodge.

Cattails are well supplied in their stems, leaves and roots with a spongy tissue that creates air channels to facilitate the exchange of gases with their lower parts growing directly in water, or in hypoxic soils. 

An American Eel foraging in the cattail roots

The cattail colony provides both a sanctuary and a larder.

Painted Turtle

Green Heron with minnow

Cattail Corner bereft of flowers in early August

Oddly, hardly any of its bottlebrush flower spikes dramatized Cattail Corner this summer, though the foliage has been lush and verdant.

An adjacent colony in bloom

At the same time, just down the shoreline, another stand of cattails began taking on a tired look as their flower spikes bloomed prolifically.

Narrow-leaved cattail, Typha angustifolia

A close look reveals that this second colony is formed of a different species. Its spikes are separated into two parts, the sausage-shaped, seed-bearing female flowers topped by a less conspicuous array of male flowers, usually with a gap between the floral sexes.

Common cattail, Typha latifolia
Male flowers above the female flowers

In the Common (Wide-leaved) cattail the floral sexes are contiguous.

A winter rendering

Cattail Corner inspires imaginative images year round. It gratifies the eye as well as the wildlife it harbors. Hopefully after this sparse flowering season it will return to its typical productivity.

Heron Views, II

Herons come in different shapes and sizes. They have long legs that most use for wading in shallow water. They usually capture prey by striking out their coiled necks from a stationary posture.

Green Heron hovering

More versatile than other species, the Green Heron is capable of plunge diving on fish as well as stealthy shoreline ambushes.

Green Heron flying past a Black-crowned Night-Heron

Still-fishing relatives like the Black-crowned Night-Heron watch motionless while the Green Heron deploys its dexterity.

This one waited patiently at the edge of the quarry until a small fish rippled the water surface.

After a short flight the bird plunged, relying on momentum to catch its prey.

The heron submerged completely in its dive but the fish escaped this time.

Buoyancy and lack of webbed feet limited its pursuit under water.

Those feet did help propel it back into the air to return to its hunting perch.

The Green Heron's skillful marshalling of anatomy makes it a marvel in its niche.

Often enough it succeeds. For the bird, life goes on.

Heron Views, I

Recently a trifecta of herons graced the quarry rim on the same day.

A Great Blue Heron on a promontory beside a Double-crested Cormorant made a remarkable contrast between two fish-seekers constructed equally but entirely differently for the hunt.

Not far away a Black-crowned Night-Heron extended its nocturnal fishing vigil into daytime.

Before long it was time for the Night-Heron to retire into the surrounding woods.

A Green Heron rose out of the water after diving on a school of minnows.

Wings spread and legs stretched the bird softened its landing on a granite perch. 

Down to Earth, Part Two

 

Northern Mockingbird

The gray day that brought swifts and swallows swirling low around the Overlook also stimulated mysterious ups and downs by a nearby Mockingbird. Its performance enlivened that listless day.

I was a delighted observer. I know I shouldn't assume the bird was being theatrical, putting on a show for an audience. Its repeated upward sallies from the top of a cedar tree were nevertheless very entertaining. I'm quite sure that at mid-summer they had nothing to do with food, courtship, or territorial bravado. Other than the swallows we were the only ones around.

What comes down, must first go up. The Mockingbird launched itself skyward repeatedly. Dare I say it was having fun? Breaking the boredom of an overcast day? Do birds suffer from tedium?

Mockingbirds don't have much to offer in terms of colorful plumage or hunting dramas.

They are mainly known for their vast repertoire of vocal mimicry, repeating songs and calls from across the avian spectrum. What is the reason for that? Does it give them any advantage in life? Do they just like to hear their own chatter? 

Are listeners part of the Mockingbird's performance world? Does it like showing off?

To every looping sally from the treetop the Mockingbird gave full voice and panache. It came back to earth each time projecting a sense of fulfillment.