I learned about the speed, deadly skills and speed of scrub jays as a young kid.
My first recollection was when a cat raced frantically across a larger open field, dodging like a jack rabbit and shrieking in pain, as a pair of scrub jays flew a precise figure eight over the cat’s head.
At every dip in the pattern, each bird pecked savagely at the cat’s head. Both birds were just a fraction of the weight and power of the cat, yet their light weight and maneuverability gave them a deadly advantage.
This was precision flying at its finest. The image of that classic battle is etched in my memory forever.
That cat had earned its trouble because it was threatening the nest of those birds and they did what instincts taught them for the survival of the species. They fought valiantly against a much more powerful predator and drove back the attack on their home.
They chased the intruder all the way back home, showing no mercy along the way.
I can imagine their satisfied feeling upon returning home to the nest, safe and sound. The cat, on the other hand, suffered a sore head for at least a week. I’ll bet it was a good long while before the cat tried to advance on an occupied nest of scrub jays.
People get caught in battles with these badass critters, too. I recall being under attack from a scrub jay myself when I was a lad of about nine years old.
Selma, the little old lady next door, had a huge and productive apricot tree. Selma harvested those apricots carefully, canned them and also made tasty jams. She sold much of her stock throughout the year, and the extra income was important to her.
Birds ruined a big percentage of her apricots as the fruit ripened on the tree, until she hired me and my BB gun to keep her tree free of birds.
Yup, I was a hired gun! She paid me in apricots. I ate far fewer than the birds, so she felt she was getting a good deal.
One day, in a flurry of activity, I knocked a feeding scrub jay out of her tree with a well-placed shot. In a flash I had its angry mate flying at my face.
I stood there on the fence, reminiscent of the classic Alamo scene, swinging the butt of my gun at the oncoming enemy.
I learned much that day and developed a newfound and lifelong respect for angry critters. After that, I tried aiming at a tree limb next to a bird to scare it away instead of hitting it. Of course I was careful none of Selma’s apricots were in the target zone.
— Capt. David Bacon operates WaveWalker Charters and is president of SOFTIN Inc., a nonprofit organization providing seafaring opportunities for those in need. Visit softininc.blogspot.com to learn more about the organization and how you can help. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.
