Sweethearts

Day 111: At the opposite end of the spectrum from irritating Blackbirds, annoying Starlings and disgusting Band-tailed Pigeons, we have endearing Evening Grosbeaks, personable Chickadees and of course the sweethearts: the Canada (Grey) Jays. Highly intelligent and very sociable, Perisoreus canadensis is well-known to backcountry hikers as the "camp robber" for its penchant for stealing food right off the table or out of the hand, but the term is applied lovingly (for the most part, at least) and visitors often defy Park regulations to have the privilege of a Grey take tidbits from an open palm. Their call is a plaintive mew which plucks at the heartstrings: "I'm starving. Please feed me!" and is hard to deny. Fortunately for me, a family of Greys discovered my feeders a few years ago and have been coming more and more frequently, albeit irregularly, to the yard. They are not yet confident in approaching a human at this altitude, which is probably wise, so with this species, I do not encourge contact as I do with the smaller birds.

My Greybies

Day 41: Perisoreus canadensis will always be Grey Jay to me, or rather "Greybies," and one of my favourite birds. I have many fond memories of backpacking trips where these delightful moochers talked me out of my breakfast oatmeal or part of a granola snack, one even going so far as to fly through a three-inch gap between my hand and lips to snatch a graham cracker. I have scores of photos of them sitting on my hand or my husband's head, soliciting the bird-friendly food we often carried specifically for them. Consequently, I was overjoyed when the first one came to my feeders. It only stayed a day or two, but over the next few years, it kept returning and staying longer, and even brought a friend. Although I couldn't say which was male and which was female, it was apparently one of each, because three came together later, one obviously a juvenile. Even later, the family unit grew to five, and they began coming around in both summer and winter. I have only counted three at once so far this year, and none is sufficiently acclimated to my presence to permit contact, although I'm hopeful. I love my Greybies!

Acrobat Feeder

Day 343: My "Greybies" are back! The Canada Jays (Perisoreus canadensis) have returned from the uplands where they've summered on illicit handouts from Park visitors to enjoy a more healthful diet at my feeders. It takes them about ten minutes to empty the suet basket of the quarter-block portion I put out every morning, carrying off as much as they can hold to stash elsewhere for later consumption. I'll increase their ration as cold weather settles in. I believe this group is a family unit. Earlier this year, I had seen as many as five birds at once, and at this point, I have only observed three together. There could be more, taking turns. I have not yet been able to identify individuals by subtleties in their markings.

Having Friends Over

Day 59: It's always nice when friends drop by for a visit during the holiday season! Yes, my family group of Canada Jays are still here, having discovered that I will keep the suet feeder filled for them. They do seem to be rather curious about the Christmas tree, only a foot or so away, albeit on the other side of a window, and I have no doubt whatsoever that if I left a window open, they'd fly right in. I've had Grosbeaks and Chickadees try to sneak in past me through the kitchen door, including one fledgling Grosbeak I dubbed "Follower" for his propensity to be at my heel. Canada Jays are notoriously friendly, as backpackers can attest, although this batch (I may have as many as five) seem to be a bit more hesitant. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if they eventually accept food from my hand. And then...oh, boy! I will have to be very careful coming and going!

New Family Member

Day 24: We are pleased to announce the arrival of a new member of the family! Much to my surprise, my family unit of three Canada Jays were recently joined by a fourth mature bird. For a second or two, all four were perched together on the shepherd's-hooks, taking polite turns at the suet feeder. The group has stuck around for much longer than usual and seem to be intending to stay for the winter. Their preferred food is the suet, although occasionally I see one of them take a few black-oil seeds. I've spent many a backpacking trip in their company, so it pleases me no end that they have come to visit me at a time in my life when I can no longer go into the deep backcountry. You kinda have to wonder...alpine birds showing up at my feeder, mycoheterotrophs sprouting in my yard...I am feeling a connection here, in Ma Nature's benevolence.

Who's Watching The Watchers?

Day 7: I am not the only member of the family who finds amusement in birdwatching, but unlike many cats, Tippy is quite content to merely watch. The only time he shows any inclination otherwise is when one of my avian friends flutters against the window to let me know that the feeders need refilling. The suet feeder hangs a foot away from the glass, and its visitors include the usual complement of Steller's Jays, Spotted Towhees, Dark-eyed Juncoes and so on, but lately, three Canada Jays have been quite literally hanging around. This has gone on for several weeks now, the longest time they've stayed. My suet budget has been adjusted upward accordingly because...well, because you just can't let a sweet little jaybird go hungry now, can you? The Nuthatch also occasionally stops by, and the Chickadees have returned from summer vacation, chattering with great enthusiasm about their experiences. Wildfire smoke must surely affect birds and critters in many of the same ways it affects humans. Maybe their internal weather sensors are telling them that the rain is coming. I hope so, because I have only the NOAA forecast to rely on.

Dear Friends Stopped By

Day 350: Today, three dear friends unexpectedly stopped by for brunch, much to my delight. I seldom see Canada Jays (Perisoreus canadensis) at this elevation. They are common to the higher backcountry of the Park, and all backpackers know them well as pleading, irresistible beggars. I am almost certain that these three are the same birds who have come to visit my feeders in prior years, and I suspect they are a family unit. They never stay long, a week or two at most, but their presence for even a day or two gives me  great joy, as if they have come to tell me that they are looking after my beloved high country. I see them as bearing acknowledgements from the individual rocks and trees who are my spiritual kin and who know that I am no longer physically able to go to them instead. They bring with them memories of broad meadows, star-studded nights, pure stream waters, rocky peaks, and the better, best days of my life when I could find the precious commodity of solitude for only the expense of a few tired muscles. Would that I could follow them when they leave, for there is nothing so ingrained in my soul as backcountry. But they seem to know that, these visitors from the uplands, and they come to me with their tidings. If their stay is but brief, they carry back with them my love and gratitude for those peace-filled days.

Turkey Dinner

Day 48: Even without COVID, it's difficult for me to find material for my daily posts at this time of year, so when I stepped out to feed the birdies this morning and spotted a couple of Grey Jays, I said aloud, "Oh, I think my blog shot for the day just flew in." I am almost certain that this is the same family grouping which comes for a brief visit each winter. It began with two birds and after a few years, a third arrived. Now there are four. They seldom stick around for more than a few days, but may return several times over the course of the winter. Now officially known as the Canada Jay, Perisoreus canadensis is a gregarious fellow, and in their normal habitat which here is usually considered to include the subalpine and forested zones, they can be quite brazen when it comes to stealing food from backpackers. I've had them land on my head, my hands, my shoulders, and even had one fly through a very narrow space between my hand and my lips, taking with it the graham cracker I had intended to put in my mouth. They are not quite as comfortable around humans when in populated areas, so I am not expecting this group to eat from my hand even though they did enjoy a post-Thanksgiving turkey dinner on the crow board.