06:43

Same old summer sky: white, still, quiet, other than hammers banging and heavy equipment whirring at the HSU Sports Complex—will construction ever end?

Birds:

1. mrgo (Mr. Go) chases Rusty Bill
2. junvenile unbanded
3. mlbob (Mrs. Go)
4. Rusty Bill
5. Shopper
6. mwob (Bow) flies northwest--missing tail feathers
7. mwrg (Wringer)
8. mwlblb (Tame Bird)
9. morlb (Red Eye)
10. mgrr (Droopy)
11. mrgw leg mites

Notes:

There’s a pair of ravens lurking this morning. They were perched on a tree I suspect may have had a nest, and have been flying around the house in big circles, squawking loudly. They are early morning and evening intruders, rarely seen or heard in the middle of the day.

The juvenile bird is still learning to open peanuts. He tried to harvest the nut from a half-opened shell, gave up, and tried another. He clutched the nut with only one foot, wrapped his spindly toes around it, while the other foot stayed free, maintaining his balance. He struggled to pierce the shell with his bill, lacking the strength and coordination of an adult. The Sibley Guide to Bird Life and Behavior says corvids (the bird family to which jays belong) hit an object only with their lower bill: “The New World jays have a special flange on the lower jaw that braces it against the skull and makes it a more effective chisel” (411).

I work to observe this specialized adaptation in action. Adult jays use their toes and bills with amazing dexterity. They wedge their food in a two-footed vise, clamp it securely with three anterior-facing toes and one posterior. In this position, they lower their bill and begin tapping. Deftly, they remove a nut from its shell, balance one half next to them, and chip away at the other half until it has splintered into pieces small enough to eat. I can see now, what appears to be an unconscious response to the environment has been learned through trial and error. The juveniles can barely use one foot to hold their shell in place, and peck lightly. They try to bite the nut, open-jawed--which serves only to catapult it forward, out of reach. With persistence, they successfully open the nut, and swallow the half whole—a move that makes my gullet ache to watch. As time goes on, they increase their control and maneuverability, taking time to chisel the half-peanut into reasonably bite-sized pieces.

The juveniles are still learning what is food. I watched an unbanded juvenile pick up bits of lichen, moss, and leaves placing each gingerly on a branch in front of him--a delicate earth sculpture that would go unnoticed unless you happened to be there during its construction. They peck and play, experimenting, getting to know and understand their world, in the same way a one-year-old toddles around, placing everything she sees in her mouth.