In an uncharacteristic burst of Saturday afternoon industry, I decided to amputate some of the lower hanging branches from the oak tree in our front yard. I grabbed the pole-mounted pruner and got after it.
I eventually worked my way over to a particularly dense grouping of limbs, and as I thrust the pruner up into the midst of the branches I was startled by the sight of a bird plumeting to the ground, where it began to flap pitifully. I immediately recognized the ploy; it was a dove — presumably female — and it was doing a rather over-the-top version of the oh-dear-me-I’m-lame-and-helpless-so-come-and-get-me act that a number of species of birds employ to draw predators away from their nests.
Sure enough, ignoring the wallowing dove, which by now was flapping its way across the street and into the neighbor’s yard, I peered into the mass of limbs and spotted the ragged nest (doves are not particularly adept at construction work). I laughed to myself at the earnest histrionics of the hen (again, an assumption) even as I marveled at the maternal instinct at work.
However, I was caught completely off guard by what happened next.
As I resumed my pruning work, another bird burst from the same vicinity. This one had blue plumage and it was not pitiful…it was flying with a purpose. It was a blue jay, and as it flew past me, I could see that it was carrying a piece of felt or a tuft of fuzz in its beak. It flew around the corner of the house, and I figured it was taking the cloth to supplement its own nest. But I noticed that instead of continuing to fly, it landed in the lawn, whereupon it started stabbing at the cloth with its beak. Very odd.
I decided to investigate so I walked toward the jay, which fled the scene, leaving behind whatever it had been stabbing. As I got closer, I got this sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to like what I found, and that was confirmed as I came upon a tiny baby dove, as yet unfeathered but covered in the fur-like coat that precedes feathers.
Its body was still twitching but it was obvious that it was mortally wounded, and indeed it died a couple of minutes later.
In a cruel irony, the mother bird’s efforts to draw me away from the nest actually resulted in the death of one of her progeny, as it left the nest unprotected, and the opportunistic jay swooped in and grabbed the baby bird. I’ve always thought of jays as the thugs of the bird world, but, frankly, I hadn’t realized that they are omnivorous; some quick googling confirms that the behavior I witnessed is not out of the ordinary.
Doves are among the least intelligent creatures you’ll ever encounter, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy after such a scene. It’s a tough world out there.
I read Steve your blog. And the light came on.
We have a jay sauntering around our humble domain, as well. Now, we know why. He’s stalking our prolific dove population.
We had no idea.
Yeah, I think I’ve seen the aftermath of these attacks before and chalked them up to cats or simply to the little guys falling out of the nests after a windstorm.
That’s really sad…
That doesn’s surprise me much. Over the years, I’ve observed the bluejay to be one of the more mean, aggressive birds.
Mockingbirds are tough nuts, too, but entertaining. Nothing like seeing a cat running on its front feet with its hind end in the air after being dive-pecked on the bum.
When the jays patrolled my yard in 2004, I didn’t have so much as a single squirrel; they even kept stray cats at bay.
This year, no jays, and God knows what will show up in my yard next.
Oh dear, how sad. 🙁 I had no idea – I like (maybe need to make that past tense, will have to consider) Jays, they’re just so pretty. I didn’t realize they were bullies, too.
We’ve got bunches of finches pretty much and that’s it around us – well and one lovely Cardinal couple – and a few robins. But mostly finches. Happily I used to have goldfinches as a kid, so I’m quite happy with finches.
That’s awful!
We have a similar problem around here, but it’s with (invasive) house sparrows attacking our (native) bluebird and swallow nest boxes. The native/invasive thing is key over here – it allows for targeted sparrow control measures.
Not too many jays around here. Thankfully, I guess!
That is sad but inevitable, I guess. My mom has a lot of Jays at her house that terrorize the squirrels and other birds (she has Doves also).
Today, I was driving when I saw two blackbirds dueling it out near the freeway. Their duel ended quickly, in a large puff of black feathers when a truck hit them both. “Lose, lose,” I think is what that is called (ref. an episode of The Office). 😉
Bluejays used to eat the peaches out of our peach trees when I was a kid. They wouldn’t even eat the whole thing…just enough to ruin the fruit. Now after reading your post, I think they are truly Birds With No Shame.
Going after small nesting birds with your “implement of destruction” are you? Your name has been turned into Burr Williams. You’re on the Watch List now buddy.