Beyond this it is indisputably true that Magpies are professional nest robbers. At times they organize systematic searching parties, and advance thru the sage-brush, poking, prying, spying, and devouring, with the ruthlessness and precision of a pestilence. Not only eggs but young birds are appropriated. I once saw a Magpie seize a half-grown Meadowlark from its nest, carry it to its own domicile, and parcel it out among its clamoring brood. Then, in spite of the best defense the agonized parents could institute, it calmly returned and selected another. Sticks and stones shied by the bird-man merely deferred the doom of the remaining larks. The Magpie was not likely to forget the whereabouts of such easy meat.

Nor is such a connoisseur of eggs likely to overlook the opportunities afforded by a poultry yard. He becomes an adept at purloining eggs, and can make off with his booty with astonishing ease. One early morning, seeing a Magpie fly over the corral with something large and white in his bill, and believing that he had alighted not far beyond, I followed quickly and frightened him from a large hen’s egg, which bore externally the marks of the bird’s bill, but which was unpierced. Of course the only remedy for such a habit is the shot-gun.

To say that Magpies are garrulous would be as trite as to say hens cackle, and the adjective could not be better defined than “talking like a Magpie.” The Magpie is the symbol of loquacity. The very type in which this is printed is small pica; that is small Magpie. Much of this bird’s conversation is undoubtedly unfit for print, but it has always the merit of vivacity. A party of Magpies will keep up a running commentary on current events, now facetious, now vehement, as they move about; while a comparative cessation of the racket means, as likely as not, that some favorite raconteur is holding forth, and that there will be an explosion of riotous laughter when his tale is done. The pie, like Nero, aspires to song; but no sycophant will be found to praise him, for he intersperses his more tuneful musings with chacks and barks and harsh interjections which betray a disordered taste. In modulation and quality, however, the notes sometimes verge upon the human; and it is well known that Magpies can be instructed until they acquire a handsome repertoire of speech.

In order that their double quartet of youngsters may be lined up for the egg harvest, the Magpies take an early start at home building. April is the nesting month, but I have two records for March 30th,—one of five eggs at Chelan, and one of eight in Yakima County. In the latter instance the first egg must have been deposited not later than March 18th. And because the season affords him no protection, the Magpie resorts to two expedients in nest building in lieu of concealment: he first seeks retirement, the depths of some lonesome swamp, an unfrequented draw, or wooded spring, in the foothills, and then he erects a castle which would do credit to a feudal baron. The nest is a ball of interlacing sticks set about a hollow half-sphere of dried mud. The amount of labor expended upon one of these structures is prodigious. The greasewood nest shown in the accompanying cut is three feet deep and two feet thru, and the component sticks are so firmly interwoven that no ordinary agency, short of the human hand, can effect an entrance. The bird enters thru an obscure passage in one side, and, if surprised upon the nest, has always a way of escape planned thru the opposite wall. The mud cup is carefully shaped with walls an inch or two in thickness, a total breadth of eight or ten inches, and a like depth. In the best construction this cavity is filled to a depth of three or four inches with a loose mat of fine twigs of a uniform size. Upon this in turn is placed a coiled mattress of fine, clean rootlets, the whole affording a very sanitary arrangement.

Another fortress, of single construction, was four feet deep and three and a half feet thru; and that, too, after making liberal allowance for chance projections. The component sticks measure up to three feet in length and three-quarters of an inch in thickness. Nests are repaired and re-occupied year after year; or if they fall into hopeless decay, new structures are erected upon the ruins of the old. The tenement photographed on Homely Island is a double nest (it looks triple, but the upper third is merely the dome for the central portion, or nest proper), and measures seven feet from top to bottom. It contained seven eggs on April 24th, 1905, but altho the oölogist is very fond of little Magpies’ eggs, he left these as a tribute to Mr. and Mrs. Cheops.

This historic pile is in marked contrast to one sighted in a willow on the banks of Crab Creek near Odessa. My attention was attracted to the spot by a scuffle, which took place between a Magpie and a pair of Kingbirds; and when I started to examine the nest, I was in honest doubt whether it might not belong to the Kingbirds. The foundation was of mud, but this came near constituting the outside of the nest instead of the inside. The action of the wind upon the willows had compressed the mud bowl to a boat-shaped receptacle wherein lay five brown beauties, unmistakable Magpies’ eggs. There was a copious lining of rootlets, and a light half-cover of thorn twigs; but the whole structure was not over a foot in diameter and scarcely that in depth.

Magpies, like Blue Jays, are discreetly quiet in nesting time, and especially so if they have attempted to nest in the vicinity of a farmhouse. When driven to the hills by persecution they accept any shelter, and will nest in greasewood, sage-brush, or even on the ground. Arbors of clematis (clematis ligusticifolia) offer occasional concealment, but thornapples (Cratægus columbianum, etc.) afford the safest retreat. A Magpie snugly ensconced in a thornapple fortress may well bid defiance to any retributive agency short of man. Among several scores of nests I never saw one in a pine tree in the Yakima country, yet these are freely utilized in Chelan, Okanogan, and Spokane Counties. Indeed, in these latter localities there is a suspicion of dawning preference for the tree-tops and difficult climbs. On the Columbia River I once found a family of Magpies occupying the basement of a huge Osprey’s nest, and had reason to believe that the thrifty pies made efficient, if unwelcome, janitors.

Young Magpies are unsightly when hatched,—“worse than naked,” and repulsive to a degree equaled only by young Cormorants. Hideous as they unquestionably are, the devoted parents declare them angels, and are ready to back their opinions with most raucous vociferations. With the possible exception of Herons, who are plebes anyhow, Magpies are the most abusive and profane of birds. When a nest of young birds is threatened, they not only express such reasonable anxiety as any parent might feel, but they denounce, upbraid, anathematize, and vilify the intruder, and decry his lineage from Adam down. They show the ingenuity of Orientals in inventing opprobrious epithets, and when these run dry, they fall to tearing at the leaves, the twigs, the branches, or even light on the ground and rip up the soil with their beaks, in the mad extremity of their rage.

A pair with whom I experimented near Wallula rather fell into the humor of the thing. The Magpie is ever a wag, and these must have known that repeated visits could mean no harm. Nevertheless, as often as I rattled the nest from my favorite perch on the willow tree, the old pies opened fresh vials of wrath and emptied their contents upon my devoted head. When mere utterance became inadequate, the male bird fell to hewing at the end of a broken branch in most eloquent indignation. He wore this down four inches in the course of my three visits. Once, when my attention was diverted, he took a sly crack at my outstretched fingers, which were hastily withdrawn; and, believe me, we both laughed.

The Black-billed Magpie winters practically thruout its breeding range, but it also indulges in irregular migratory movements, which in Washington take the form of excursions to the coast. While never common on Puget Sound, they are not unlikely to occur anywhere here in the fall of the year, and are almost certain to be found somewhere about the southern prairies. They return early in spring by way of the major passes, and are not again seen within the heavily timbered areas during the breeding season. Mr. D. E. Brown, then of Glacier, on the north fork of the Nooksack River, records under date of March 4, 1905, the appearance of several bands of Magpies passing eastward at a considerable height, perhaps something between three and five thousand feet. He says they were unrecognizable until glasses were trained on them, and he thinks he must have seen at least fifty birds, with chances for many more to have passed unobserved.

East or west the Magpie becomes a pensioner of the slaughter house in winter, and his fondness for meat has often proved his undoing in the cattle country. As a scavenger his services are not inconsiderable. The only trouble is, as has been said, that he sometimes kills his own meat.

Volumes could be written of the Magpie as a pet. He is a brainy chap as well as a wag, and infinitely more interesting than a stupid parrot. Mischief is his special forte: the untying of shoe-strings, the investigation of cavities, the secreting of spoons, and the aimless abstraction of gold teeth are his unending delight. Once when the writer was shelling seed peas in the garden, a spoiled “Jackity” assayed to fill his (the man’s) ears with these innocent pellets; and when he discovered a rent in the knee of the man’s trousers, he fairly chortled, “Well; I see myself busy for a week filling that hole!”

Cage life is irksome for bird or beast; but, if we must be amused, and, above all, if we feel called upon to pass adverse judgment upon this gifted bundle of contradictions, as he exists in a state of nature, let our harshest sentence be sociable confinement with occasional freedom on parole. A bird in the cage is worth two in the obituary columns.

No. 8.
CALIFORNIA JAY.

A. O. U. No. 481. Aphelocoma californica (Vigors).

Description.—Adults: In general blue, changing to brownish gray on back (scapulars and interscapulars), whitening variously on underparts; crown, hind neck and sides of neck dull cobalt blue, nearly uniform; wings, tail, and upper tail-coverts dull azure blue; cheeks and auriculars cobalt blue and dusky; chin, throat, and chest, centrally, white, the last-named with admixture of blue in streaks, and passing into the clear blue of its sides; breast sordid gray, passing into dull white of remaining underparts; shorter under tail-coverts pure white, the longer ones tinged with pale blue; bill and feet black; iris brown. In young birds the blue of adults is supplanted by mouse-gray on head and lower neck, rump, etc., save that crown is tinged with blue; the gray of back is of a deeper shade; the underparts are white, save for light brownish wash across breast and sides. Length of adult males 11.50-12.25; wing 5.00 (127); tail 5.60 (143); bill 1.00 (25.4); tarsus 1.60 (41). Females slightly smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue coloration without crest; whitish underparts.

Nesting.—Nest: a bed of small twigs without mud and heavily lined with fine dead grass; 8 inches across outside by 3½ in depth—thus much smaller and lighter than that of the Steller Jay—placed at moderate elevation in tree or bush in thicket near water. Eggs: 3-6, usually 4 or 5, deep green of varying shades, spotted with reddish browns. Av. size, 1.11 × .82 (28.2 × 20.8). Season: first week in May; one brood.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district of United States, including eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada and the Cascade Range in Oregon, north to southwestern Washington.

Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence along the banks of the Columbia west of the Cascades. Resident.

Authorities.—[“California Jay,” Johnson Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22]. [Belding, Land Birds Pac. Dist. (1890) p. 111] Aphelocoma californica, Lawrence, Auk, July, 1892, p. 301.

Specimens.—C.

Thru the western part of Oregon the breeding limits of the California Jay do not extend as far north as the Columbia River. I have never known of this species nesting about Portland, yet thirty miles south and southwest it is not at all uncommon. Thru the Willamette Valley, one meets this bird about as often as the Steller Jay. The habits of the two jays are much the same, yet the birds are easily distinguished by their dress, the California Jay having more resemblance to the Blue Jay of the East in color but lacking the crest, while the Steller Jay has a dark blue and blackish coat with the long crest.

According to popular opinion, the California Jay is a bird of bad reputation. Many people think he does nothing but go about wrecking the homes of other birds and feasting on their eggs. This is not true, altho occasionally a Jay will destroy the home of another bird. In Oregon I have often seen this bird feeding on wheat about the edge of the fields after the grain has been cut. Fruit, grain, grasshoppers and other insects make up a large part of his food.

Several years ago I saw a small flock of California Jays along the Columbia River in the dead of winter. During the nesting season the jay is too quiet to show his real character. During the autumn and winter he throws off all restraint, picks up a few mates and goes wandering about from place to place in search of food. The bold and boisterous squawk of the Blue Jay always comes to my ear as a welcome and fitting note to relieve the cold quiet of the winter woods.

One day I was watching several English Sparrows that were feeding on the ground under an oak when a pair of California Jays came flying thru the trees. With a loud squawk one swooped down, with his wings and tail spread and his feathers puffed out as much as possible, evidently expecting to scare the sparrows. He dropped right in their midst with a screech which plainly said, “Get out of here or I’ll eat you up alive!” The bluff might have worked with any bird except an Englisher. The Sparrows sputtered in contempt and were ready to fight but the Jay’s attitude changed in a second. He took on an air of meekness and unconcern and hopped off looking industriously in the grass for something he had no idea of finding. I thought it a good touch of Jay character.

William L. Finley.

No. 9.
STELLER’S JAY.

A. O. U. No. 478. Cyanocitta stelleri (Gmelin).

Synonyms.—“BLue Jay.” “Jaybird.”

Description.—Adults: Head and neck all around, and back, sooty black, touched with streaks of cerulean blue on forehead, and pale gray on chin and throat, this color passing insensibly into dull blue on breast and rump and richer blue on wings and tail; terminal portion of tail and wings crossed with fine black bars, sharply on secondaries and tertials, faintly or not at all on greater coverts. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Young birds are more extensively sooty, and wing-bars are faint or wanting. Length of adults about 12.00; wing 5.90 (150); tail 5.43 (138); bill 1.18 (30); tarsus 1.80 (46).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; harsh notes; blue and black coloration unmistakable.

Nesting.—Nest: a bulky mass of fine twigs thickly plastered centrally with mud and lined with fine rootlets, placed 6-30 feet high in evergreen tree of thicket, or near edge of clearing. Eggs: 3-5, usually 4, pale bluish green, uniformly but moderately spotted with olive brown and pale rufous and with numerous “shell-markings” of lavender. Av. size, 1.23 × .90 (31.2 × 22.8). Season: April 20-May 10; one brood.

General Range.—North Pacific Coast district from Gray’s Harbor and Puget Sound north to Cook’s Inlet, except Prince of Wales Island and the Queen Charlotte group (where displaced by C. s. carlottæ).

Range in Washington.—Entire western portion from summit of Cascades, shading into C. s. carbonacea along north bank of the Columbia. Resident.

Authorities.—? Cyanura stelleri Swains., Orn. Com., Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193. Cyanocitta stelleri, Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. VI. pt. IV. 1857, p. 85. T. C&S. L¹: Rh. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. B. BN.

Mischief and the “Blue Jay” are synonymous. Alert, restless, saucy, inquisitive, and provoking, yet always interesting, this handsome brigand keeps his human critics in a perpetual see-saw between wrath and admiration. As a sprightly piece of Nature, the Steller Jay is an unqualified success. As the hero-subject of a guessing contest he is without a peer, for one never knows what he is doing until he has done it, and none may predict what he will do next.

The pioneers are especially bitter against him, and they are unanimous in accusing the bird of malicious destructiveness in the gardens, which are dearer than the apple of the eye during the first years of wilderness life. The birds will eat anything, and so, tiring of bugs and slugs, are not averse to trying corn, cabbage leaves, or, best of all, potatoes. They have observed the tedious operation of the gardener in planting, and know precisely where the coveted tubers lie. Bright and early the following morning they slip to the edge of the clearing, post one of their number as lookout, then silently deploy upon their ghoulish task. If they weary of potatoes, sprouting peas or corn will do. Or perhaps there may be something interesting at the base of this young tomato plant. And when the irate farmer appears upon the scene, the marauders retire to the forest shrieking with laughter at the discomfitted swain. Ay! there’s the rub! We may endure injury but not insult. Bang! Bang!

As a connoisseur of birds’ eggs, too, the Steller Jay enjoys a bad eminence. The sufferers in this case are chiefly the lesser song birds; but no eggs whatever are exempt from his covetous glance, if left unguarded. The Jay has become especially proficient in the discovery and sacking of Bush-tits’ nests. Mr. D. E. Brown assures me that he has found as high as fifteen nests of this bird in a single swamp, all gutted by Jays. When it is remembered that these busy little workers make one of the handsomest nests in the world, the shame of this piracy gets upon the nerves. The investigation of Tits’ nests has something of the fascination of the gaming table for the Jay, since he never knows what the wonder pouches may contain, until he has ripped a hole in the side and inserted his piratical beak.

The dense forests of Puget Sound are not so well patrolled by these feathered grafters as are the forests of the East by the true Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata). But then our bird has the advantage of denser cover, and we do not know how often we have been scrutinized or shadowed. Upon discovery the Steller Jay sets up a great outcry and makes off thru the thickets shrieking lustily. A favorite method of retreat is to flit up into the lower branches of a fir tree and, keeping close to the trunk, to ascend the succeeding limbs as by a spiral staircase. The bird, indeed, takes a childish delight in this mad exercise, and no sooner does he quit one tree-top than he dashes down to a neighboring tree to run another frenzied gamut.

Owls have abundant cover in western Washington, but should one of them be startled by day, the Steller blue-coat is the first to note the villain’s flight. The alarm is sounded and an animated pursuit begins. When the Owl is brought to bay, the deafening objurgation of the Jays is not the least indignity which he is made to suffer. The Jay, in fact, seeks to make the world forget his own offenses by heaping obloquy upon this blinking sinner.

The notes of the Steller Jay are harsh and expletive to a degree. Shaack, shaack, shaack is a common (and most exasperating) form; or, by a little stretch of the imagination one may hear jay, jay, jay. A mellow klook, klook, klook sometimes varies the rasping imprecations and serves to remind one that the Jay is cousin to the Crow. Other and minor notes there are for the lesser and rarer emotions, and some of these not unmusical. Very rarely the bird attempts song, and succeeds in producing a medley which quite satisfies her that he could if he would.

C. stelleri, like C. cristata again, is something of a mimic. The notes of the Western Red-tail (Buteo borealis calurus) and other hawks are reproduced with especial fidelity. For such an effort the Jay conceals himself in the depths of a large-leafed maple or in a fir thicket, and his sole object appears to be that of terrorizing the neighboring song-birds. One such I heard holding forth from a shade tree on the Asylum grounds at Steilacoom. Uncanny sounds are, of course, not unknown here, but an exploratory pebble served to unmask the cheat, and drove forth a very much chastened Blue Jay before a company of applauding Juncoes.

It is well known that the gentleman burglar takes a conscientious pride in the safety and welfare of his own home. Nothing shall molest his dear ones. The Jay becomes secretive and silent as the time for nest-building approaches. The nest is well concealed in a dense thicket of fir saplings, or else set at various heights in the larger fir trees. If one but looks at it before the complement of eggs is laid the locality is deserted forthwith. If, however, the enterprise is irretrievably launched, the birds take care not to be seen in the vicinity of their nest until they are certain of its discovery, in which case they call heaven and earth to witness that the man is a monster of iniquity, and that he is plotting against the innocent.

In our experience, Steller’s Jay is not, as has been sometimes reported, a bird of the mountains. To be sure, it may be found in the mountain valleys, but if so it is practically confined to them. The bird, is, however, ubiquitous thruout the lowlying countries of Puget Sound, Gray’s Harbor, and adjacent regions, giving way only upon the south to the dubious Grinnell Jay (S. s. carbonacea).

No. 10.
GRINNELL’S JAY.

A. O. U. No. 478e. Cyanocitta stelleri carbonacea J. Grinnell.

Synonyms.—“Blue Jay.” Coast Jay (A. O. U.).

Description.—“Similar to C. s. stelleri, but paler thruout, and averaging slightly smaller; color of head very nearly as in C. s. stelleri, but averaging browner or more sooty, the forehead always conspicuously streaked with blue, and throat more extensively or uniformly pale grayish; back and foreneck much paler, slaty brown or brownish slate, instead of deep sooty; blue of rump, upper tail-coverts, and under parts of body light dull cerulean or verditer blue, advancing more over chest, where more abruptly defined against the sooty or brownish slate color of foreneck.” (Ridgway). Adult males: wing 6.10 (150.5); tail 5.51 (140); bill 1.15 (29.1); tarsus 1.75 (44.5).

General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Monterey county, California, north to Columbia River.

Range in Washington.—Has only theoretical status in State, but specimens taken along north banks of Columbia would appear to belong here.

Authorities.—? Corvus stelleri, Nuttall, Man. Orn. U. S. and Can. I. 1832, 229 (“Columbia River”). ? Orn. Com. Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193. C. s. frontalis, R. H. Lawrence, Auk XVII. Oct. 1892, p. 355 (Gray’s Harbor). C. s. carbonacea Grinnell, Ridgway, Birds of No. and Mid. Am. Vol. III. p. 354 (footnote). L. Kb.

Ornithology is the furthest refined of the systematic sciences. So zealous have been her devotees and so sagacious her high priests, that no shade of difference in size, form or hue of a bird is allowed to pass unnoticed, or its owner unnamed. It is unquestionably annoying to the novice to be confronted with such subtleties, and the recognition of subspecies in the vernacular names of our birds is of doubtful wisdom; but the fashion is set and we will all be foolish together—so that none may laugh.

The normal range of Grinnell’s Jay, as defined, extends northward to the Columbia River; and since the district lying between the Columbia and Puget Sound presents intergrades between C. stelleri and C. s. carbonacea, obviously, those Jays which inhabit the southern portion of this debatable ground are better entitled to be called carbonacea than stelleri.

No. 11.
BLACK-HEADED JAY.

A. O. U. No. 478c. Cyanocitta stelleri annectens (Baird).

Synonyms.—“Blue Jay.” Pine Jay. Mountain Jay.

Description.—Adults: Similar to C. stelleri, but marked with a small lengthened white spot over eye; streaks on forehead (when present) paler blue or whitish; streaks on chin and upper throat whiter and more distinct; blue areas slightly paler and rather more greenish in tone. Size indistinguishable.

Recognition Marks.—As in C. stelleri. White spot over eye distinctive.

Nesting.—As in C. stelleri.

General Range.—Eastern British Columbia and the northern Rocky Mountains, south to Wahsatch Range in Utah, west to eastern slopes of Cascade Range in Washington and Oregon.

Range in Washington.—Forests of eastern Washington, shading into typical stelleri in Cascade Range. Nearly confined to pine timber.

Authorities.—Cyanocitta stelleri annectens, Brewster, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, VII., 1882, 229. (C&S.) D¹. D². J.

There is no such difference of plumage between C. stelleri and C. s. annectens as is suggested by the name “Black-headed”; but in endeavoring to mark eight shades of difference between tweedledum and tweedledee within the limits of a single species, we are naturally pretty hard put to it for appropriate names. Annectens marks the annexion, or welding together, of two branching lines in the C. stelleri group. It is the head of the wish-bone, whose divergent arms run down the Sierras to Lower California and along the Rockies to Guatemala respectively.

With a hypothetical center of distribution somewhere in southeastern British Columbia, this subspecies inosculates with stelleri in the mountains of that province, and is roughly separated from the western stock by the central ridge of the Cascades, in Washington.

Black-headed Jays in Washington are normally confined to the limits of coniferous timber, being therefore most abundant in the northern portion, in the Blue Mountains, and along the eastern slopes of the Cascades. We have, however, like Bendire, discovered them on occasion skulking in the willows along creek bottoms some twenty miles from pine timber. On the other hand, they do not assert, with the Gray Jays and Clark Crows, the right to range the mountain heights: but are quite content to maintain their unholy inquisition amidst the groves and thickets of the valley floors.

They are, perhaps, not so noisy as the Steller Jays, being less confident of their cover; and their notes are rather more musical (breath of pines is better than fog for the voice); but for the rest they are the same vivacious, intrepid, resourceful mischief-makers as their kin-folk everywhere.

No. 12.
WHITE-HEADED JAY.

A. O. U. No. 484a. Perisoreus canadensis capitalis Ridgw.

Synonyms.—Rocky Mountain Jay. “Canada” Jay. Whiskey Jack. Wisskachon. Camp Robber. Moose-bird. Meat Hawk. Meat-bird.

Description.—Adults: General color plumbeous ash lightening below; whole head white save space about and behind eye connected with broad nuchal patch of slaty gray; wings and tail blackish overlaid with silver gray; tail tipped with white and wings more or less edged with the same. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Young birds much darker and more uniform in coloration than adults—slaty gray to sooty slate with lighter crown and some whitish edging on underparts. Length 12.00-13.00; wing 6.00 (152); tail 5.75 (145); bill .82 (21); tarsus 1.38 (35).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; slaty gray coloration. White of head with its abruptly defined patch of slate on hind neck distinctive as compared with related species of the genus Perisoreus.

Nesting.—Has not been reported for Washington but bird undoubtedly breeds in the Kalispell range. Nest: in coniferous tree, a large compacted mass of the softest and warmest substances,—twigs for a foundation, then grasses, abundant moss, plant-down and feathers. Eggs: 3-5, usually 4, grayish white, spotted and blotched with brown having a tinge of purplish. Av. size 1.15 × .85 (29.2 × 21.6). Season: Feb.-April; one brood.

General Range.—Higher ranges of the Rocky Mountain district from British Columbia to Arizona.

Range in Washington.—Mountains of northeastern corner of State and (probably) the Blue Mountains.

Authorities.—[“White-headed Jay,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T., 1884 (1885) 22.] Ridgway, Birds of North and Middle America, Vol. III. p. 371, (“Sinzoknoteen Depot, etc.”).

The casual observer, camping first on Calispell Peak in Stevens County, and later on Mt. Stuart, in southern Chelan County, might fail to note any difference in the soberly-dressed Jays, who are the self-appointed overseers of camp economics. For while the birds of the two localities really represent two species, the resemblance in general appearance and behavior is so close as to be virtually negligible afield.

Of this bird in Colorado, Mr. Frank M. Drew has observed[6]: “In autumn when on his first tour of inspection around the house he hops along in a curious sidelong manner, just like a school-girl in a slow hurry. White-headed, grave, and sedate, he seems a very paragon of propriety, and if you appear to be a suitable personage, he will be apt to give you a bit of advice. Becoming confidential he sputters out a lot of nonsense in a manner which causes you to think him a veritable ‘Whisky Jack’; yet, whenever he is disposed, a more bland, mind-his-own-business-appearing bird will be hard to find, as will also be many small articles around camp after one of his visits, for his whimsical brain has a great fancy for anything which may be valuable to you, but perfectly useless to him.”

No. 13.
OREGON JAY.

A. O. U. No. 485. Perisoreus obscurus (Ridgway).

Synonyms.—Camp Robber. Meat Bird. Deer Hunter.

Description.—Adults: In general upperparts deep brownish gray; underparts white tinged with brownish; forehead and nasal plumules most nearly clear white; chin, throat, cheeks, auriculars, and obscure band around neck white more or less tinged with brownish; crown and nape sooty brown, nearly black; feathers of back with white shafts more or less exposed; wings and tail drab gray, the former with whitish edging on middle and greater coverts and tertials. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Young birds are nearly uniform sooty brown lightening below. Length 10.00-11.00; wing 5.30 (135); tail 5.00 (127); bill .71 (18); tarsus 1.30 (33).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; brownish gray coloration, familiar, fearless ways. Not certainly distinguishable afield from the next form.

Nesting.—Nest: a bulky compacted structure of twigs, plant-fibers and tree-moss with warm lining of fine mosses and feathers, placed well up in fir tree. Eggs: 4 or 5, light gray or pale greenish gray spotted with grayish brown and dull lavender. Av. size 1.04 × .79 (26.4 × .20). Season: Feb.-April; one brood.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Humboldt county, California, north to Vancouver Island. Imperfectly made out as regards following form.

Range in Washington.—Probably the Olympic Mountains and irregularly thru the heavier forests of southwestern Washington.

Authorities.—P. canadensis Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. pt. II. 1858, 591 part. Ridgway, Bull. Essex Inst. V. Nov. 1873, 194. (T) C&S. L¹. Rh. Ra. B. E(?).

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. C.

The relative distribution of the Oregon Jay and the more recently distinguished Gray Jay is still very imperfectly understood. It would appear probable that this form is the bird of the rainy district, including all lowlands of western Washington, the Olympic Mountains, and the western slopes of the Cascades, and that it gives place to P. o. griseus not only upon the heights and eastern slopes of the Cascades, but in the deep valleys which penetrate these mountains from the west.

Certainly it is the Oregon Jay which abounds in the Olympic Mountains, and among the dense spruce forests of the adjoining coasts. While the bird is more abundant on the lowlands in winter, the prevalent opinion that the Oregon Jay is exclusively a bird of the mountains is probably incorrect. Altho bold enough where undisturbed, the birds soon learn caution; and their nests have been found near Renton where their presence during the breeding season would otherwise have gone unsuspected. The depths of the forest have no terrors for this quiet ghost, and there are other reasons besides color why he remains the obscure one.

No. 14.
GRAY JAY.

A. O. U. No. 485a. Perisoreus obscurus griseus Ridgw.

Synonyms.—Camp Robber, etc.

Description.—“Similar to P. o. obscurus, but decidedly larger (except feet), and coloration much grayer; back, etc., deep mouse gray, instead of brown, remiges and tail between gray (No. 6) and smoke gray, instead of drab gray, and under parts grayish white instead of brownish white.” (Ridgway). Length (Av. of three Glacier specimens) 11.16 (283.5); wing 5.82 (147.6); tail 5.48 (139.1); bill .75 (19); tarsus 1.25 (31.7).

General Range.—Central mountain ranges of central California, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia.

Range in Washington.—Thruout the Cascade Mountains and irregularly along their lower slopes west (?) to tidewater.

Authorities.—? P. canadensis Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., Vol. IX, pt. II, 1858, p. 591 (Cascade Mts. W. T.). Ridgway, Auk, Vol. XVI., July, 1899, 225. Kk. ?

The “Camp-Robber” appears promptly as interested neighbor and smell-feast before all who invade the precincts of the mountains. The hunter, the trapper, the prospector, the timber cruiser, the mere camper-out, all know him, and they speak well or ill of him according to their kind. The Gray Jay appears to have forsworn the craftiness of his race, and he wins by an exhibition of artless simplicity, rather than by wiles. The bird is mildly curious and hungry—oh, very hungry—but this is Arcadia, and the shepherds draw nigh with never a doubt of their welcome. There is a childlike insouciance about the way in which the bird annexes a piece of frizzled bacon, humbly intended for the man. “’Shoo,’ did you say? Why, what do you mean? Can’t I have it?” And the bird retires before a flying chip, baffled and injured by such a manifest token of ill-breeding. He complains mildly to his fellows. They discuss the question in gentle whews; generously conclude you didn’t mean it, and return unabashed to the quest.

Hunger is the chief characteristic of these docile birds, and no potential food is refused, nuts, acorns, insects, berries, or even, as a last resort, the buds of trees. Meat of any sort has an especial attraction to them; and they are the despair of the trapper because of their propensity for stealing bait. The hunter knows them for arch sycophants, and he is occasionally able to trace a wounded deer, or to locate a carcass by the movements of these expectant heirs. Says Mr. A. W. Anthony[7]: “While dressing deer in the thick timber I have been almost covered with Jays flying down from the neighboring trees. They would settle on my back, head, or shoulders, tugging and pulling at each loose shred of my coat until one would think that their only object was to help me in all ways possible.”

In the higher latitudes “Whisky Jack,” in spite of carefully secreted stores, often becomes very emaciated in winter, a mere bunch of bones and feathers, no heavier than a Redpoll. While the jays of our kindlier clime do not feel so keenly the belly pinch of winter, they have the same thrifty habits as their northern kinfolk. Food is never refused, and a well-stuffed specimen will still carry grub from camp and secrete it in bark-crevice or hollow, against the unknown hour of need.

I have never heard the Gray Jay titter more than a soft cooing whee ew repeated at random; but Bendire credits it with a near approach to song[8]; and Mrs. Bailey says of the Jays on Mt. Hood[9]: “Their notes were pleasantly varied. One call was remarkably like the chirp of a robin. Another of the commonest was a weak and rather complaining cry repeated several times. A sharply contrasting one was a pure clear whistle of one note followed by a three-syllabled call something like Ka-wé-ah. The regular rallying cry was still different, a loud and striking two-syllabled ka-whee.”

The eggs of the Gray Jay have not yet been reported from this State, but it is known that the bird builds a very substantial nest of twigs, grasses, plant fibre, and mosses without mud, and that it provides a heavy lining of soft gray mosses for the eggs. The nest is usually well concealed in a fir tree, and may be placed at any height from ten or fifteen feet upward, altho usually at sixty or eighty feet. Only one brood is reared in a season, and family groups hunt together until late in the summer.

Icteridæ—The Troupials

No. 15.
COWBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 495. Molothrus ater (Bodd.).

Synonyms.—Cow Blackbird. Cuckold.

Description.—Adult male: Head and neck wood-, seal-, or coffee-brown (variable); remaining plumage black with metallic greenish or bluish iridescence. Female: Dark grayish brown, showing slight greenish reflections, darkest on wings and tail, lightening on breast and throat. Young in first plumage: Like female but lighter below and more or less streaky; above somewhat mottled by buffy edgings of feathers. The young males present a striking appearance when they are assuming the adult black, on the installment plan, by chunks and blotches. Length 7.50-8.00 (190.5-203.2); wing 4.40 (111.8); tail 3.00-3.40 (76.2-86.4); bill .65 (16.5); tarsus .95-1.10 (24.1-27.9). Female, length, wing, and tail one-half inch less.

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; brown head and black body of male; brown of female.

Nesting.—The Cowbird invariably deposits her eggs in the nests of other birds. Eggs: 1 or 2, rarely 3 or 4, with a single hostess, white, often faintly tinged with bluish or greenish, evenly speckled with cinnamon, brown or umber. Av. size, .85 × .65 (21.6 × 16.5), but quite variable. Season: April-June.

General Range.—United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific, north into southern British America, south in winter, into Mexico.

Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence east of the Cascades, increasing; rare or casual in western Washington. Summer resident.

Authorities.—Bendire, Life Histories of N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 434. D¹. D². Ss². J. B. E.

Specimens.—C. P.

While I was chatting with my host at milking time (at the head of Lake Chelan in the ante-tourist days), a dun-colored bird with light underparts flew down into the corral, and began foraging as tho to the manor born. One by one the cows sniffed at the stranger and nosed it about, following it up curiously. But the bird only side-stepped or walked unconcernedly ahead. When I returned with the gun, a moment later, I found a calf investigating the newcomer, and it was difficult to separate the creature from bossikin’s nose. The date was August 3rd; the bird proved to be a young male Cowbird in the lightest juvenile phase of plumage, a waif cuckold far from any of his kin, but shifting for himself with the nonchalance which characterizes his worthless kind.

If our hero had lived (and I make no apology for his demise in the first act), he would have exchanged his inconspicuous livery for the rich, iridescent black of the adult; and he would have done this on the installment plan, by chunks and blotches, looking the while like a ragpicker, tricked out in cast-off finery.

In the month of March Cowbirds mingle more or less with other blackbirds in the migrations, but if the main flock halts for refreshments and discussion en route, a group of these rowdies will hunt up some disreputable female of their own kind, and make tipsy and insulting advances to her along some horizontal limb or fence rail. Taking a position about a foot away from the coy drab, the male will make two or three accelerating hops toward her, then stop suddenly, allowing the impulse of motion to tilt him violently forward and throw his tail up perpendicularly, while at the same moment he spews out the disgusting notes which voice his passion.

Of the mating, Chapman says: “They build no nest, and the females, lacking every moral instinct, leave their companions only long enough to deposit their eggs in the nests of other and smaller birds. I can imagine no sight more strongly suggestive of a thoroly despicable nature than a female Cowbird sneaking thru the trees and bushes in search of a victim upon whom to shift the duties of motherhood.”

The egg, thus surreptitiously placed in another bird’s nest, usually hatches two or three days before those of the foster mother, and the infant Cowbird thus gains an advantage which he is not slow to improve. His loud clamoring for food often drives the old birds to abandon the task of incubation; or if the other eggs are allowed to remain until hatched, the uncouth stranger manages to usurp attention and food supplies, and not infrequently to override or stifle the other occupants of the nest, so that their dead bodies are by-and-by removed to make room for his hogship. It is asserted by some that in the absence of the foster parents the young thug forcibly ejects the rightful heirs from the nest, after the fashion of the Old World Cuckoos. I once found a nest which contained only a lusty Cowbird, while three proper fledgelings clung to the shrubbery below, and one lay dead upon the ground.

When the misplaced tenderness of foster parents has done its utmost for the young upstart, he joins himself to some precious crew of his own blood, and the cycle of a changeling is complete.

While not common anywhere west of the Rockies, the Cowbird is no longer rare east of the Cascades, and it is making its appearance at various points on Puget Sound. The earlier writers make no mention of its occurrence in Washington, and it seems probable that its presence has followed tardily upon the introduction of cattle. Bendire was the first to report it from this State, having taken an egg near Palouse Falls on June 18, 1878, from a nest of the Slate-colored Sparrow (Passerella iliaca schistacea).

Its presence among us is, doubtless, often overlooked because of the superficial resemblance which it bears in note and appearance to Brewer’s Blackbird (Euphagus cyanocephalus). The note of the former is distinctive,—a shrill, hissing squeak in two tones with an interval of a descending third, uttered with great effort and apparent nausea—honestly, a disgusting sound.

No. 16.
BREWER’S BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 510. Euphagus cyanocephalus (Wagler).

Description.—Adult male: Glossy black with steel blue and violet reflections on head, with fainter greenish or bronzy reflections elsewhere; bill and feet black; iris pale lemon yellow or light cream. Adult female: Head and neck all around deep brownish gray with violet reflections; underparts brownish slate to blackish with faint greenish iridescence; upperparts blackish, or outright black on wings and tail, which are glossed with bluish-green; bill and feet as in male, but iris brown. Immature males in first winter plumage resemble adults but have some edging of pale grayish brown. Length of adult males: 10.00 (254); wing 5.00 (128); tail 3.90 (99); bill .89 (22.6); tarsus 1.27 (32.3). Adult female: length 9.25 (235); wing 4.60 (117); tail 3.50 (89); bill .79 (20); tarsus 1.20 (30.5).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; pure black coloration and whitish eye of male. Larger than Cowbird (Molothrus ater) with which alone it is likely to be confused.

Nesting.—Nest: placed at moderate height in bush clump or thicket, less frequently on ground at base of bush, more rarely in cranny of cliff or cavity of decayed tree-trunk, a sturdy, tidy structure of interlaced grasses, strengthened by a matrix of mud or dried cow-dung and carefully lined with coiled rootlets or horsehair. Nests in straggling colonies. Eggs: 4-7, usually 5 or 6, presenting two divergent types of coloration with endless variations and intermediate phases. Light type: ground color light gray or greenish gray, spotted and blotched with brown of varying shades, walnut, russet, and sepia. (In some examples there is purplish brown scrawling, which suggests the Redwing type. One egg in the writer’s collection is indistinguishable from that of a Cowbird, save for size.) Dark type: ground color completely obscured by overlay of fine brown dots resulting in nearly uniform shade of mummy brown or Vandyke brown. Av. size 1.03 × .72 (26.2 × 18.3). Season: April 20-May 10; one or two broods.

General Range.—Western North America from the plains to the Pacific, and from the Saskatchewan region south to the highlands of Mexico to Oaxaca.

Range in Washington.—Of general distribution thruout the State but found chiefly in more open situations in vicinity of streams and ponds and in cultivated sections. Normally migratory but increasingly resident especially on West-side.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues, Vol. II. p. 185.] Scolecophagus mexicanus, Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. VI. pt. IV. 1857, p. 86. (T) C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B. E. P.

“Blackbirds” are not usually highly esteemed in the East, where the memory of devastated cornfields keeps the wrath of the farmer warm; but if all species were as inoffensive as this confiding pensioner of the West, prejudice would soon vanish. He is a handsome fellow, our Washington grackle, sleek, vivacious, interesting, and serviceable withal. We know him best, perhaps, as an industrious gleaner of pastures, corrals, streets, and “made” lands. He is not only the farmer’s “hired man,” waging increasing warfare against insect life, especially in its noxious larval forms, but he has an accepted place in the economy of city and village as well.