A Crazy Jay and a Frustrated Hawk

**FOR SOME REASON MY PICTURES WON'T UPLOAD TODAY, YOU WILL HAVE TO USE YOUR IMAGINATION! SORRY, I WILL EDIT IT IN THE FUTURE WHEN IT IS WORKING AGAIN-PAT

Just when I announce that I have so much to do today, every hour accounted for, along comes this amazing little drama/comedy routine on my walk that I can’t possibly let go unmentioned. So, instead of moving things out of harms way, I am blogging. Just don’t tell my husband.

Another unusually warm day, feeling more like a early morning walk in Costa Rica than Cape Cod. I had just rounded the bend to the containment pond when the rattle of a Kingfisher caught my ear. That was followed quickly by the hoarse croak of a hawk, a hawk that was diving down, intent on making this Kingfisher “ la oisueax du jour”. Wiley Kingfisher took a dive straight into the pond, and as this was a Coopers Hawk, not an Osprey, it had no intention of following suit and pulled up at the last second. The hawk returned to a large dead Pitch pine by the trail, and amazingly the Kingfisher resettled on the same bare branch as before, gave a rattle, shook his feathers but, otherwise, seemed nonplussed. I felt like it might just as well paint a bulls-eye on its head, sitting out in the open like that, but another attack didn’t come.

Clearly though, we had a hungry hawk here, always worth watching. In the same craggy tree with him was a Blue jay, going about its business, calm as could be, even though it too is certainly on the top of the menu choices for this hawk. Which, apparently, was what the hawk was thinking, for he made a dive at the jay, but was unable to get through the branches to get to it. Which is maybe what gave the jay such a sense of invincibility for then, incredibly, it hopped to a branch that was even closer to the hawk. On the other side of the trunk, but still, I would say, no more than two feet away. “Are you crazy!” Then it goes a step further and makes a small rush at the hawk, which sets them both to flight, hawk chasing it, but missing again, and they both resettle in the tree. More vocal taunts from the jay and the hawk, counting to 10 perhaps, decides it didn’t come here to be made sport of, flies off to another nearby, also dead, Pitch pine.

I should mention here, in case you didn’t know, that Pitch pines are scraggly trees with a profusion of twisted branches and both of these trees are loaded with dead, but still there, pine cones. Even without any needles, it makes for great cover, and apparently, great quick and easy bug snacks, for it always has birds of one kind or the other in it. But back to the breakfast drama. The hawk seems to be giving up on this jay and moving on, but the jay, again, did it forget to take its Prozac? Or too much Prozac, maybe, and is having suicidal thoughts, flies directly to the hawk’s tree, again, landing only a branch or two away from it. “Buddy, you are asking for it!” but maybe it was just secure in the knowledge that these snaggy branches would continue to keep it out of the reach of the hawks talons even though it was tantalizingly close. More taunts, more chases, and off to another leafed out tree they go, where I thought the hawk almost had him, but no, “Jay, jay, jay” rings out, and, it would seem the jay will live to taunt another day. Amazing. And again, as so often, I think, thank you God, that I can just mosey on down to the supermarket to buy my food and in the aisle the food doesn’t go skittering away.

Another treat on this morning’s walk was the increased number of shorebirds willing to work the mudflats. Fewer tourists here, just me and my dog, it would seem, and the pickings in the slough must be good because today there were 20 or more, small and midsize sandpipers. I was also wondering if other shorebirds might consider sheltering inland during the coming storm. Nice that that lowering pressure warns the birds, with as much accuracy and less hype than the Weather Channel, so I will be curious to see if the numbers increase tomorrow.

I know I am going a bit long here, and I DO have all these things I am supposed to be doing, but may I share a small pet peeve I have? I am always surprised by the glee some birders display when a storm is headed our way. “Maybe we will get lucky and see some tropical birds blown so off course that they end up on Cape Cod instead of Cape Hatteras.” Now, I like to see rare birds too, but this time of year things are heading south, not north, so, think of the huge toll that takes when they check their GPS and see they just added another 1,000 miles to an already arduous trip. Again, I am guilty too, to a degree. I love to check out the ocean at the height of a storm, hoping for pelagic birds to be much closer to shore, practically in the parking lot sometimes. Yes, that must be disorienting for them, but they generally aren't off by 1,000’s of miles. So should some Frigate bird show up or something else crazily off course, I will feel more sorry for it, than delight.
Praying everything and everyone finds shelter in the storm.

OK, back to work Pat. Off to buy the obligatory batteries.