Blue Jay Hoodlums

Blue jays are appreciated for how clever they are; they seem to have fairly complex problem solving skills and a power of abstract reasoning that gives them permission to be their sassy selves. Many of us are amused by the Jay's braggadocio - the way they flaunt their intelligence by harassing house cats or by mimicking the shrieks of hawks to scare all other animals in the woods. But if the Jay's were closer to our own size, we would probably be less appreciative of their nasty attitude - and if they were the size of a horse, their antics would be outright terrifying. I suspect that this latter is closer to how the other birds view these gifted creatures.

I came to this realization recently when I was watching a Jay advance her way through the hedge behind my house - wending from branch to branch. She was carefully alert for the evidence of nests to pillage - precious eggs to plunder, to murder the baby chicks within. I was particularly invested in this drama because this hedge had been the home of a Song Sparrow since February; his song had been my morning music every day, even through the rains. I was not happy with the prospect of losing my morning companion and fellow musician.

I have been aware of the Jay's carnivorous demeanor for a while. Last year a Jay had raided a Woodpecker's nest in a dying tree outside my kitchen. I had listened and watched over the months of late winter as the Woodpecker carefully crafted a den near the top of the tree, carefully digging out a small hole and cavity in the tree to raise a family. I was particularly pleased as the season developed to see a collection of beaks poking out of the hole. Then one day there was no activity on the tree. Though I didn't see the act, I blame the Jay's for this travesty. Just prior to this event a family of six Jay's had moved into the neighborhood; two adults and four juveniles.

Initially I was happy to have them around. They were entertaining with their constant clatter and rough-housing with each other. I was amused by the juvenile's attempts to create convincing calls. They had the vocabulary of adult jays, but not the conviction; their awkward squawks and shrills reminiscent of the cracking voices of adolescent boys. Then one afternoon I heard a big commotion in my driveway. Going out to investigate I found the four juvenile Jays viciously tormenting and ripping at a small sparrow. The scene was ruthless - much akin to the mob behavior that overtakes a street gang the moment blood starts to flow. With four large Jay's against one small sparrow I hoped that the kill would be merciful, but the Jays seemed to relish the carnage; taking turns at attacking the victim, tossing, striking and tearing it's small body.

I have long gotten over my need to have Nature be nice. We have spent a great deal of energy in the last century veiling the terrible splendor of natural law - probably because our veiling it helps conceal that terrible splendor in our own behavior. But I am still saddened by some of the necessary misfortunes that feed the tree of life. I will mourn the silence of the hedge behind my house.