The California Jays 



an astonishing vocal outbreak, dzweep or dzneep, with which the groves 

 are brought up standing. No masquerader at Mardi Gras ever sprung 

 such a cacophonic device upon a quiveringly expectant public. Dzweep 

 dzweep — it curdles the blood, as it is meant to do. It costs the bird an 

 effort, no doubt, for the whole body moves in sympathy. Could any- 

 thing be more saucy than the mocking bow of the California Jay, as he 

 dips his head and jerks his tail and asks, "Who the devil are you?" And 

 there he shifts and scrapes and challenges until nervousness gets the 

 better of valor, and he is off to a neighboring cover with exaggerated 

 flirt and fluff of wing and pumping tail. He is Puck-of-the- Woods, but 

 not, alas! Robin Goodfellow. 



Without doubt this Jay takes a conscious delight in mischief-making. 

 If he sees a company of sparrows feeding in a little open space, he will 

 slip up quietly, under cover, then plump down suddenly with a screech 

 which sends the little fellows flying like bursting shrapnel. And the 

 delighted Jay stands there like a drum-major before a cinematograph. 

 "Oh, if Mary could see me now!" Mr. Mailliard has told us 1 , most 

 entertainingly, of some jays which took to teasing the family cats at San 

 Geronimo. It was not enough for a jay to steal up behind one of the 

 cats while it was at supper, strike the hapless pussy a smart blow on the 

 tail, and then, when tabby turned to defense, make off shrieking with 

 the meat, cleverly snatched up. The cats got onto this, and not only 

 kept their tails decorously between their legs, but continued to mind 

 their muttons while the chewing was good. But if ever a jay caught a 

 cat napping, with its tail partially extended, it approached with eyes 

 snapping in delight. The situation had to be studied carefully and noise- 

 lessly, with head cocked first on one side and then upon the other. Fin- 

 ally, when the most vulnerable spot had been decided upon, the jay 

 would give the poor tail a vicious peck, and then fly "screeching with 

 joy" to the nearest bush. 



But if the "Blue Jay" is active in the pursuit of mischief, he knows 

 also how to become passive and to let Nature disclose her secrets to him. 

 Especially in nesting time "watchful waiting" becomes the winning 

 policy for the Blue Jay. Accordingly, he posts himself in some conspic- 

 uous place, a tree-top or a telephone wire, and looks and looks and looks. 

 At such times he may be the very picture of innocence, or patience on a 

 monument, until one is moved to ask him as the traveller did of the 

 Tennesseean, "What do you do with yourself all day?" And the answer 

 might be, "Wa-al, sometimes I sets and thinks, and sometimes I just 

 sets." But the Blue Jay knows exactly what he is about, and every 

 little bird of the forest knows that he knows — and shudders. 



'"The Condor," Vol. VI., p. 94, July, 1904. 

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