Day 225 – Who has trained whom?

9

August 12, 2016 – When we lived at the condo we had a jay that hung around. It stopped by almost daily and, at certain times of the year, would be joined by a friend or two. But the one, he was a bit of a resident. It would sit out of the rain on our rail and mumble away to itself for hours on end, keeping me company while I worked at my home office.

When it was hungry it would let out a raucous bellow and we would oblige with a handful of peanuts. I could never get a good photo of him since under the cover of our overhang there was never enough light to see his beautiful blue feathers well. He always just came out as a black silhouette.

We coexisted together for years this way. And when we moved, we were sad to think the new owner of our little condo would probably not notice him, and his daily life would be without peanuts anymore.

It wasn’t long before we saw a few jays at the new place so we bought a bag of peanuts and started to toss a few out now and again. We put feeders out, but that also attracted every squirrel, rat, and mouse within a kilometre, so we took those down. But it was enough to let the jays know that there were some soft hearted bird lovers living here now, and it didn’t take them too long before they began to train us.

They hop up on the deck and look in the windows, one is often so cheeky as to rap on the windows to announce his presence. The cats used to get into a froth, now they just lift their heads and stare at him as if to say “Oh, you’re back are you?” before closing their eyes again. The cats and the jay all know that there is a pane of glass separating them, and that jay taunts them with that knowledge, hopping along the deck, peering in and trying to get our attention.

If we aren’t downstairs, he might swoop to the upper level and tap around the windows on the top floor until one of us notices and comes downstairs. Then he will fly down and wait for us, and has learned the sound of the peanut jar that sits just inside the french door to the back deck. He’ll sit on the back of a chair, or on the roof over the dining room, and wait, impatiently.

Often, much like my old friend from the condo, he will hang around on the back of one of the deck chairs, or in the low hanging branch of the biggest rhododendron, from where he can see clearly into the living room and kitchen. He will sit there for extended periods while he primps and preens, waiting for his peanut allocation.

We have been trained well.

116 Photos in 2016 – 74. Bird with a colour in its name