Sharing the summer with a Blue Jay

My wife, Marjorie, and I shared an experience this summer when a fledgling Blue Jay made its debut in our yard. The jay was perched in our vineyard emitting strange noises as it flapped its wings and looked up at us with beak wide open. As we wondered what had happened to the parents, we realized we had a choice-allow the bird to starve or feed it.

We agreed on the latter and fed the jay a fresh grape. We knew the consequences — this blue jay would imprint upon us. And it did. From the middle of May until the first week in October, Marjorie and I raised a Blue Jay.

Our decision was to name the jay Fitzgerald regardless of sex, provide it with necessary nourishment, and allow it to be free-no confinement of any kind. We began our care by hand-feeding Fitzgerald crushed nuts. Later, we placed larger pieces, then whole nuts at feeding sites.

Tony Gennaro: PNT columnist

Fitzgerald just before his return to nature.

Interactions with Fitzgerald were enjoyable. We anticipated his visits as we worked in our yard, and we were delighted each evening when he flew to the arms of our patio chairs to consume nuts, watermelon, and cantaloupe we presented to him. We also gave him an occasional freeze dried cricket or earthworm. On one occasion while perched on a grapevine, Fitzgerald dropped his earthworm. I, too, dropped quickly on hands and knees among soil, leaves, and small branches in an attempt to help Fitzgerald find the worm. Suddenly, Marjorie opened the door to our backyard and said, "What on earth are you guys up to." Obviously, Fitzgerald found the earthworm before I did.

Other moments were precious, too. Frequently, we walked under the vineyard branches in search of Fitzgerald. Usually, before we discovered his location, we would hear gurgling sounds, which led us to his perch site — typically on a shaded grapevine. Once we made contact, he would display all sorts of activities such as emitting vocalizations, breaking off leaves, banging his peak against branches, and stretching his wings. He especially enjoyed climbing on my arm and pecking on my watch.

We shared many delightful moments with Fitzgerald this summer as we watched him mature from a fledgling with a shaggy plumage to a late summer juvenile with a beautiful, tidy plumage. And, Marjorie and I were in the yard when we heard his first "JaaaaaaaaY," the characteristic scream of the Blue Jay. Wow was that exciting!

Then Fitzgerald began his aloof behavior and gradually discontinued his evening visits with us on the patio. He continued to pick up peanuts and pecans from the feeders and disappear into surrounding trees. We were saddened that Fitzgerald no longer required our attention but content that he was a healthy specimen, ready to meet the challenges of nature.

We continue to hear his loud "Jaaaaaaaay" from among trees in and near our backyard. We know it is Fitzgerald because following his call we say, "Fitzgerald, come and visit us. We're missing you." After a moment of silence we hear his returning, "Jaaaaaaaay."

Desert Biologist Tony Gennaro of Portales writes a monthly column on creatures of the Southwest. Contact him at: [email protected]