I moved from my long-time home a year ago, to a lower elevation and a smaller home and land. My greatest (only?) sadness about that move is that my gray jays, as I think of them, did not move with me. (I told them repeatedly how to get there.)
My gray jays brought me so much joy and laughter through the years living above 10,000 ft in a mixed conifer forest.
But they apparently don’t like the lower elevation or pine forest I’m in now. Sigh.
I first noticed one or two at my tray feeder years ago. I ended up with six or eight “regulars” who stayed year-round. I got to know them. And love them.
So when I heard Canada was picking a national bird and that it was to be the GRAY JAY I was beside myself with delight!
For those Canadians whose “feathers are ruffled,” as the NYT put it (see link), I plead with you to take another look (all of your birds are our birds too, btw). I just must speak up for this beautiful, elegant, graceful, raucous, demanding, funny, brave, little bird who brought me so much joy and whom I miss so much to this day!
A couple of stories must suffice.
My livestock guardian dog liked eating outside on the deck. The gray jays figured this out pretty quickly and began to haunt his meals. At first he would glare and then jump at them. Then he began ignoring them as they lined up on the deck rail to patiently wait for him to finish. He never ate all at one sitting; they never left anything for him to return to. At first he would guard his bowl but eventually he gave up and let them have it. They would come in, and line up, and wait their turn to fill their little cheeks with five or six kibble bits and fly away. I think it was a love/hate relationship.
They would also let ME know if I didn’t have their food out in time. They usually got black oil sunflower (though I confess I started putting out a bit of kibble on the picnic table just for them). One spring morning I heard a huge noise out front. When I went out a half dozen grays flew at my head — not touching, just telling me I was LATE that day. WAY LATE. TOO LATE. Laughing, I put out their meal.
I’ll even start calling them Canada Jays if Canadians will embrace them for the wonderful avian creatures they are!
(And it’s another good reason to want to move to Canada!)