BLUE JAY 227 



Oct. 11, 1856. In the woods I hear the note of the 

 jay, a metallic, clanging sound, sometimes a mew. Re- 

 fer any strange note to him. 



Oct. 5, 1857. There is not that profusion and conse- 

 quent confusion of events which belongs to a summer's 

 walk. There are few flowers, birds, insects, or fruits 

 now, and hence what does occur affects us as more 

 simple and significant. The cawing of a crow, the 

 scream of a jay. The latter seems to scream more fitly 

 and with more freedom now that some fallen maple 

 leaves have made way for his voice. The jay's voice 

 resounds through the vacancies occasioned by fallen 

 maple leaves. 



Nov. 3, 1858. The jay is the bird of October. I 

 have seen it repeatedly flitting amid the bright leaves, 

 of a different color from them all and equally bright, 

 and taking its flight from grove to grove. It, too, with 

 its bright color, stands for some ripeness in the bird 

 harvest. And its scream ! it is as if it blowed on the 

 edge of an October leaf. It is never more in its element 

 and at home than when flitting amid these brilliant 

 colors. No doubt it delights in bright color, and so has 

 begged for itself a brilliant coat. It is not gathering 

 seeds from the sod, too busy to look around, while flee- 

 ing the country. It is wide awake to what is going on, 

 on the qui vive. It flies to some bright tree and bruits 

 its splendors abroad. 



Nov. 10, 1858. Hearing in the oak and near by a 

 sound as if some one had broken a twig, I looked up 

 and saw a jay pecking at an acorn. There were several 

 jays busily gathering acorns on a scarlet oak. I could 



