JAY! JAY! JAY!
Uh oh. I’ve been spotted, and the guards have ratted on me.
“Halt! Who goes there? Thought you could just slip past, did you? Not on my watch. Hey everybody—look! Look! Over there!”
Every non-human ear in the neighborhood takes note. It feels a bit like being caught at an awkward moment by the paparazzi. But I don’t take it personally. I know everyone who wanders past is subject to the same protocol—people, cats and dogs, hawks, snakes, you name it. Jays take sentry duty seriously. Any real or imagined threat to the forest citizenry is duly noted and announced.
Jays are part of a large family. Their Corvidae cousins include gray jays, nutcrackers, crows, ravens, and magpies, as well as some species we’re not that familiar with in North America–choughs, treepies, and jackdaws. In the Americas alone there are over 30 species christened with some variation of the jay brand. The scrub jays (Aphelocoma spp.) and pinyon jay (Gymnorhinus cyanocephalus) closely favor one another, but two other members of the North American branch made striking and unique sartorial choices. Once you’ve seen a Steller’s jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) or a blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata), you’ll never mistake them for any other bird.
Of course, they’re not really blue. It’s just a trick of the light called a schemochrome. If you find a blue jay feather you can watch the color disappear and reappear as you roll the shaft between your fingers, changing it’s position relative to the sun. These forest defenders are high-tech.
When they’re not spying on everyone, jays pitch in to give the next generation of trees a head start. Okay, that’s probably an accidental community service. Jays bury acorns and then fail to use them all at snack time. The seeds germinate and—poof!—you’ve got a new oak tree. If society benefits from your actions, intentional or not, shouldn’t you get some credit?
Despite their public service efforts, jays have a reputation as bad birds. Maybe it’s the black mask some of them wear. More likely, it’s the abuse of power so often attributed to their ranks. Eye-witnesses tell of raids on the nests of other birds for eggs and hatchlings, but one extensive study of blue jays found only 1% of jays had evidence of eggs or birds in their stomachs. You’ll also hear stories of jays who trick fellow backyard residents into leaving the feeder by mimicking hawk calls. Now, I can’t deny that some bullying does occur. Think of it as the price of protection, if you must. But judge not, lest ye be judged. Keep in mind that both Steller’s and blue jays have complex social systems and tight family bonds.
Birds, like people, are rarely all good or bad. Whether the scale tips to the right or the left depends on your point of view. Life isn’t always black and white, or even shades of gray. Sometimes, it’s not even blue.
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© 2011 Next-Door Nature— no reprints without written permission from the author. Thanks to the following authors for making their work available through a Creative Commons License: Rick Leche (blue jay), Allan D. Wilson (Stellar's jay), Len Blumin (Western scrub jay), and Tony Randell, pinyon jay.