THE BLUE JAY 



called back to Mother Jay: "Fill the kittle! Fill the kittle 1 

 Fill the tea-kittle." 



My feelings concerning the Jay are varied. I admit all his 

 bad traits, but there is in his favour the fact that he so perfectly 

 imitates the cries of several birds of p*ey that he saves many of 

 the woodland folk from Hawks; whether as many as he destroys, 

 I have no way to determine, but I think so. He is forever 

 guarding the woods, while every bird of field and forest knows 

 his signals and heeds them, to that I certainly can testify; for 

 lying in hiding, I repeatedly have seen birds take to cover at his 

 warning when it required some time for me to discover what was 

 coming; but always he was a true prophet, for something came, 

 either a hunter, Hawk, Owl, Crow, squirrel, snake, or close 

 houses, sometimes a hungry cat. 



These alarm cries are not pleasant, but that the wood-folk 

 heed them should prove that they appreciate and are grateful 

 for them. He is a spot of brilliant colour around our homes in 

 winter when birds are scarce, while his "D'jay, D'jay!" cry is a 

 cheery and welcome sound, proving as it does that we are not 

 altogether deserted. In courting he carries on a long, low con- 

 versation far down in his throat, while his tones are sweet and 

 musical. Not only do Jays use this sweet throaty murmuring in 

 pairs when courting, but throughout the season they congregate 

 in small flocks to have a party. 



There is one big maple on the banks of the Wabash, beneath 

 which I have caught a few black bass, where the Jays for years 

 have gathered at intervals for one of their tree parties. At least 

 half a dozen collect in the tree perching close together. One 

 begins to chatter, jabber, chuckle and murmur. Another joins 

 him, then the whole company, then one continues alone, several 

 more join in, and again the whole flock unite in a sweet, inquiring, 

 throaty vocalizing that is music in which I delight. The Brown 



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