The Quest for 30-year Blue Jays

Blue Jays come in all shapes, sizes (and personalities)...really.

What we already know: Cyancitta Cristata, a passerine of the family Corvidae is a beautiful blue creature which bears the burden of an undeservedly sordid reputation of meanness and aggression...I say, Blue Jays just know what they want, when they want it. Furthermore, Blue Jays are noisy...and that is just a fact, but so are many interesting animals. Blue Jays are resident from east of the Rockies, from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. Blue Jays have a crown of feathers on the top of their heads called a crest that can be raised or lowered according to their moods. Plenty of fantastic websites, dozens of expertly authored books, and a multitude of scientific papers, contain volumes of facts and figures regarding the Blue Jay, so I'll not repeat and recycle any longer, other than to share a few more Blue Jay curiosities.

Interestingly, according to Whatbird.com:

• "The Blue Jay's coloration is not derived by pigments, but is a result of internal light refraction due to the internal structure of the feathers; if a Blue Jay feather is crushed, the blue disappears as the structure is destroyed."
  
• They will sometimes prey on eggs and nestlings of other birds."
  
• "Captive Jays have been observed using strips of paper as 'tools' to rake in bits of food from outside their cages."
  
• A group of jays has many collective nouns including a 'band,' 'cast,' 'party,' and a 'scold' of Jays.

Let me now address this last bullet point as I continue...

Recently, I set out on a northward quest to rediscover a "party" of Jays. Typically I would begin any search for them in mixed woodlands, evergreens, or city parks. This particular time I would begin in the small city I had last encountered many of them; Three lakes, WI. I drove north along Hwy. 45 on a blustery cool Saturday morning in the trusty WPT. The many miles I had to travel went along quickly as the changing scenery outside the truck window was stunningly captivating. Oceans of golden brown corn stalks and seas of flowing green grass set off the foreground as sugar maples, oaks, birch and poplar leaves blazed with early fall color on the hillsides. Orange pumpkins and red cranberries dotted the fields and bogs. Even the hundreds of mammoth white wind generators stood in stilled awe of the splendor surrounding their bases. (either that or the power company had 85 percent of the brakes applied for whatever mystifying reason. You know...I really need to blog about that phenomenon someday...all those wind mills standing there and so very few turning...)

As I entered the city limits of a place I had not been for nearly 30 years, I felt like a true tourist. Businesses that I remembered from long ago seemed to have been frozen in a time loop. Sure there were a few new ones here and there, but the vast majority were the ones I frequented as a mere teenager. Other icons of this special place like the local branch of the Dairy Queen, Boehm's Inc., the Black Forest Pub and Grille and the Oneida Village Inn (O.V.) stood resolute in their brick and mortar, welcoming me as I drove along Superior Street. These last two were the kind of rare establishments that actually trusted humans...enough to allow them to start a tab and pay later. Powdered sugar snow covered the shaded areas of the ground from the wintry weather disturbance of the previous night. Stopping briefly in the park where the Cy Williams memorial sign is located, I looked for Jays. Seeing none there, I decided to drive to the end of the block where Hwy 45 intersects with County A. Large sandwich-style sign boards stood proclaiming that today was Pumpkin Fest in town. Again parking the WPT in the lot next to the Winery, I took a quick peek around to see if there were any familiar Jays nearby. Many individuals were milling around the interior of the factory and outlet store, taste-testing and sampling from one end to the other. The cherry pink faces on those assembled told me that a few nips of the grape were responsible for the smiles and jocularity within...however...still no Jays.

I motored back to the O.V. and checked into my room. I carried my few pieces of luggage down the ancient but clean brown low-pile carpeting to my room. A king-sized bed, smallish wooden table with two black faux leather chairs, 70s harvest gold bathroom ensemble complete with a genuine oak toilet seat, and a large Sylvania TV set that looked as if it had toppled off the low dresser a time or two, were all mine for the next 22 hours. I was glad I had requested a "no-smoking room" as the rest of the quaint and affordable premises reeked of the habits of the native northwoods masses. Yes folks, if you ever wondered (from your ashtrayless, foul air banned, looked unkindly upon, urban-enlightened perspectives) where all the cigarette smokers truly are; wonder no further. I found them, and I can honestly say they have all decided not to quit come hell or high taxes.

Don't you just love it when the bathroom exhaust fan actually works? I mean it turns on with a separate switch, moves air as intended keeping the mirror from fogging and (most importantly) whirs along like a playing card in your third grade bicycle spokes, covering any possible noise you might make when using the W.C...that kind of "works?" Yeah, I thought so...me too. Innkeepers of America, take notice and emulate the wonderfulness of a simple small town motel which got it right for a change! Ahem...back to my search for Blue Jays. It wasn't until 2:00 PM when I had my first sighting. This particular Jay was very friendly when I found her. Yes, I knew she was a "her" because I recognized the familiar markings; long blond hair, curves and a higher voice than mine. She and I exchanged pleasantries and decided to tour the Pumpkin Fest and surrounding area together, as she too was looking for Jays. She told me that she was expecting to see a few more around 4:00 PM so in the time being, the two of us entered the local school to reminisce and look for more Blue Jays. Funny how the school was all about Jays. Blue Jay this and Blue Jay that...in the gym, cafeteria, and hallways. Jay memorabilia, Jay paintings, and Jay trophies filled the casements that lined the hallways. We had struck pay dirt. I bought a Blue Jay long sleeve shirt with a great big grin on my face. Yes, this was Blue Jay heaven indeed.

The rest of the Blue Jays arrived between 4 and 6 until the entire "cast" had been assembled. Although their appearance was as varied as their clothing choices, they all had one thing in common; 1979. Some had remained as monogamous as their namesakes. Others had migrated from one mate to another. A few spoke of enjoying the "empty nest" time of their lives, while one was only beginning her time as mommy. Some had not made the journey and skipped the chance to flock together for various reasons known only to them, but those that did enjoyed their reunion. They ate and drank together, (at one point I looked over at one Jay whom I swear appeared to be using a scrap of paper as a tool to get to some food just outside his reach) sang songs and communicated raucously until the wee hours of the next morning. I was struck by the tales told with vivid clarity in which I had somehow played a key role; tales of gratitude for assistance offered and advice given. I realized how a person never truly knows what impact they may have had on anothers life unless those contributions are someday shared. Poignant moments and important interactions passing by us in a blur. This particular gathering of Jays was no different. Birds of a feather...memories of the pecking order we all had naturally assumed, were recollected by those who paid attention at the time. News of those who had fallen from our mutual sky was relayed to each Jay in somber tones, and happiness celebrated and equally triumphed with the pride that only parents can exude. 30-year Blue Jays singing the praises of their offspring were mixed with questions wondered aloud over certain missing friends. In the end this eclectic scold of Jays; large and small, hairy and bald, male and female were what I had come to celebrate. These were in fact the very individuals who helped shape me as a fledgling, and I them. My beginning and theirs. What a perfectly wonderful time.

Before we all knew it, the long slow reverse-migration was underway. For the clock of years only runs forward, and we all had our own habitats to return to.

Congratulations fellow 1979 Three Lakes Blue Jays!

Here's to another 30 wonderful years...I love you all.