HE LOST HIS TAIL; 185 



It may be that the jay in freedom disturbs 

 other birds, as has been affirmed, but among a 

 number smaller than himself my bird has never 

 once shown the least hostility. He is inter- 

 ested in their doings, but the only unpleasant 

 thing he has done is to shriek and scream 

 to stop their singing. In spite of his nat- 

 ural boldness, always facing the enemy, al- 

 ways ready to fight, and never running from 

 danger nor allowing himself to be driven any- 

 where, when he is not quite well he is a timid 

 bird. In moulting, this spring, my jay lost 

 his entire tail, and was extremely awkward in 

 getting about, almost helpless, in fact ; and at 

 that time he was afraid to hop to the floor, and 

 refused to come out of the cage. (I should have 

 said, by the way, that he feared hurting him- 

 self ; he was quite as spirited as ever, as ready 

 to show fight.) To get him out of the door I 

 offered him the greatest inducements, with the 

 cage on the floor, so that he could not fall far. 

 He would stand on the lowest perch, three 

 inches from the floor, look at the meat or what- 

 ever treasure I placed in the open doorway, and 

 cry a faint, low, jay-baby cry, yet not dare de- 

 scend, though plainly aching with desire to get 

 the object so nearly within his reach. Even 

 since he is entirely recovered and the possessor 

 of a beautiful long tail, he dreads the one little 



