Chapter II: Part 2

Dr. Cooper wrote[5] with exact truthfulness: “This fish-crow frequents the coast and inlets of this Territory in large numbers, and is much more gregarious and familiar than the common Crow. Otherwise it much resembles that bird in habits, being very sagacious, feeding on almost everything animal and vegetable, and having nearly the same cries, differing rather in tone than character. Its chief dependence for food being on the sea, it is generally found along the beach, devouring dead fish and other things brought up by the waves. It is also very fond of oysters, which it breaks by carrying them upward and dropping again on a rock or other hard material. When the tide is full they resort to the fields or dwellings near the shore and devour potatoes and other vegetables, offal, etc. They, like the gulls, perceive the instant of change of the tide, and flocks will then start off together for a favorite feeding ground. They are very troublesome to the Indians, stealing their dried fish and other things, while from superstitious feelings the Indians never kill them but set a child to watch and drive them away. They build in trees near the shore in the same way as the common crow and the young are fledged in May.”

Mr. J. F. Edwards, a pioneer of ’67, tells me that in the early days a small drove of pigs was an essential feature of every well-equipped saw-mill on Puget Sound. The pigs were given the freedom of the premises, slept in the saw dust, and dined behind the mess-house. Between meals they wandered down to the beach and rooted for clams at low tide. The Crows were not slow to learn the advantages of this arrangement and posted themselves promptly in the most commanding and only safe positions; viz., on the backs of the pigs. The pig grunted and squirmed, but Mr. Crow, mindful of the blessings ahead, merely extended a balancing wing and held on. The instant the industrious rooter turned up a clam, the Crow darted down, seized it in his beak and made off; resigning his station to some sable brother, and leaving the porker to reflect discontentedly upon the rapacity of the upper classes. Mr. Edwards declares that he has seen this little comedy enacted, not once, but a hundred times, at Port Madison and at Alberni, V. I.

The Fish Crows have learned from the gulls the delights of sailing the main on driftwood. I have seen numbers of them going out with the tide a mile or more from shore, and once a Crow kept company with three gulls on a float so small that the gulls had continually to strive for position; but the Crow stood undisturbed.

Speaking of their aquatic tendencies, Mr. A. B. Reagan, of La Push, assures me that he has repeatedly seen them catch smelt in the ocean near shore. These fish become involved in the breakers and may be snatched from above by the dextrous bird without any severe wetting.

Crows are still the most familiar feature of Indian village life. The Indian, perhaps, no longer cherishes any superstition regarding him, but he is reluctant to banish such a familiar evil. The Quillayutes call the bird _Kah-ah-yó_: and it is safe to say that fifty pairs of these Fish Crows nest within half a mile of the village of La Push. They nest, indifferently, in the saplings of the coastal thickets, or against the trunks of the larger spruces, and take little pains to escape observation. The birds are, however, becoming quite shy of a gun. Seeing a half dozen of them seated in the tip of a tall spruce in the open woods, I raised my fowling piece to view, whereupon all flew with frantic cries. Indeed it required considerable manœuvering and an ambuscade to secure the single specimen needed.

At Neah Bay the Fish Crows patrol the beach incessantly and allow very little of the halibut fishers’ largess to float off on the tide. And the _Oke-t(c)ope_, as the Makahs call the birds, have little fear of the Indians, altho they are very suspicious of a strange white man. I once saw a pretty sight on this beach: a three year old Indian girl chasing the Crows about in childish glee. The birds enjoyed the frolic as much as she, and fell in behind her as fast as she shooed them away in front—came within two or three feet of her, too, and made playful dashes at her chubby legs. But might I be permitted to photograph the scene at, say, fifty yards? _Mit nichten!_ Arragh! To your tents, O Israel!

In so far as this Crow consents to perform the office of scavenger, he is a useful member of society. Nor is his consumption of shell-fish a serious matter. But when we come to consider the quality and extent of his depredations upon colonies of nesting sea-birds, we find that he merits unqualified condemnation. For instance, two of us bird-men once visited the west nesting of Baird Cormorants on Flattop, to obtain photographs. As we retired down the cliff, I picked up a broken shell of a Cormorant’s egg, from which the white, or plasma, was still dripping. As we pulled away from the foot of the cliff a Crow flashed into view, lighted on the edge of a Shag’s nest, seized an egg, and bore it off rapidly into the woods above, where the clamor of expectant young soon told of the disposition that was being made of it. Immediately the marauder was back again, seized the other egg, and was off as before. All this, mind you, in a trice, before we were sufficiently out of range for the Cormorants to reach their nests again, altho they were hastening toward them. Back came the Crow, but the first nest was exhausted; the second had nothing in it; the Shags were on the remainder; moments were precious—he made a dive at a Gull’s nest, but the Gulls made a dive at him; and they too hastened to their eggs.

Subsequent investigation discovered rifled egg-shells all over the island, and it was an easy matter to pick up a hatful for evidence. As he is at Flattop, so he is everywhere, an indefatigable robber of birds’ nests, a sneaking, thieving, hated, black marauder. It is my deliberate conviction that the successful rearing of a nestful of young Crows costs the lives of a hundred sea-birds. The Baird Cormorant is, doubtless, the heaviest loser; and she appears to have no means of redress after the mischief is done, save to lay more eggs,—more eggs to feed more Crows, to steal more eggs, etc.

No. 5.
CLARK’S NUTCRACKER.

A.O.U. No. 491. Nucifraga columbiana (Wils.).

Synonyms.—Clark’s Crow. Pine Crow. Gray Crow. “Camp Robber.” (Thru
confusion with the Gray Jay, _Perisoreus_ sp.).

Description.—_Adults_: General plumage smoky gray, lightening on head,
becoming sordid white on forehead, lores, eyelids, malar region and
chin; wings glossy black, the secondaries broadly tipped with white;
under tail-coverts and four outermost pairs of rectrices white, the
fifth pair with outer web chiefly white and the inner web chiefly
black, the remaining (central) pair of rectrices and the upper
tail-coverts black; bill and feet black; iris brown. Shade of gray in
plumage of adults variable—bluish ash in freshly moulted specimens,
darker and browner, or irregularly whitening in worn plumage. _Young_
like adults, but browner. Length 11.00-13.00; wing 7.00-8.00 (192);
tail 4.50 (115); bill 1.60 (40.7); tarsus 1.45 (36.8). Female smaller
than male.

Recognition Marks.—Kingfisher size; gray plumage with abruptly
contrasting black-and-white of wings and tail; harsh “_char-r_” note.

Nesting.—_Nest_: basally a platform of twigs on which is massed fine
strips of bark with a lining of bark and grasses, placed well out on
horizontal limb of evergreen tree, 10-50 feet up. _Eggs_: 2-5, usually
3, pale green sparingly flecked and spotted with lavender and brown
chiefly about larger end. Av. size, 1.30 × .91 (33 × 23.1). _Season_:
March 20-April 10; one brood.

General Range.—Western North America in coniferous timber, from
Arizona and New Mexico to Alaska; casual east of the Rockies.

Range in Washington.—Of regular occurrence in the mountains thruout
the State. Resident in the main but visits the foothills and lower
pine-clad levels of eastern Washington at the close of the nesting
season.

Authorities.—_Corvus columbianus_, Wilson, Am. Orn. iii. 1811, 29. T.
C&S. D¹. D². J. E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.). Prov. E. C.

No bird-lover can forget his first encounter with this singular Old-Bird-of-the-Mountains. Ten to one the bird brought the man up standing by a stentorian _char’r’r, char’r’r, char’r’r_, which led him to search wildly in his memory whether Rocs are credited with voices. If the bird was particularly concerned at the man’s intrusion, he presently revealed himself sitting rather stolidly on a high pine branch, repeating that harsh and deafening cry. The grating voice is decidedly unpleasant at close quarters, and it is quite out of keeping with the unquestioned sobriety of its grizzled owner. A company of Nutcrackers in the distance finds frequent occasion for outcry, and the din is only bearable as it is softened and modified by the re-echoing walls of some pine-clad gulch, or else dissipated by the winds which sweep over the listening glaciers.

Clark’s Nutcracker is the presiding genius of the East-side slopes and light-forested foothills, as well as of the rugged fastnesses of the central Cordilleras. His presence, during fall and winter, at the lower altitudes depends in large measure upon the pine-cone crop, since pine seeds are his staple, tho by no means his exclusive diet. This black and white and gray “Crow” curiously combines the characteristics of Woodpecker and Jay as well. Like the Lewis Woodpecker, he sometimes hawks at passing insects, eats berries from bushes, or alights on the ground to glean grubs, grasshoppers, and black crickets. In the mountains it shares with the Jays of the _Perisoreus_ group the names “meat-bird” and “camp-robber,” for nothing that is edible comes amiss to this bird, and instances are on record of its having invaded not only the open-air kitchen, but the tent, as well, in search of “supplies.”

Of its favorite food, John Keast Lord says: “Clark’s ‘Crows’ have, like the Cross-bills, to get out the seeds from underneath the scaly coverings constituting the outward side of the fir-cone; nature has not given them crossed mandibles to lever open the scales, but instead, feet and claws, that serve the purpose of hands, and a powerful bill like a small crowbar. To use the crowbar to advantage the cone needs steadying, or it would snap at the stem and fall; to accomplish this one foot clasps it, and the powerful claws hold it firmly, whilst the other foot encircling the branch, supports the bird, either back downward, head downward, on its side, or upright like a woodpecker, the long clasping claws being equal to any emergency; the cone thus fixed and a firm hold maintained on the branch, the seeds are gouged out from under the scales.”

These Nutcrackers are among the earliest and most hardy nesters. They are practically independent of climate, but are found during the nesting months—March, or even late in February, and early April—only where there is a local abundance of pine (or fir) seeds. They are artfully silent at this season, and the impression prevails that they have “gone to the mountains”; or, if in the mountains already, the presence of a dozen feet of snow serves to allay the oölogist’s suspicions.

The nest is a very substantial affair of twigs and bark-strips, heavily lined, as befits a cold season, and placed at any height in a pine or fir tree, without noticeable attempt at concealment. The birds take turns incubating and—again because of the cold season—are very close sitters. Three eggs are usually laid, of about the size and shape of Magpies’ eggs, but much more lightly colored. Incubation, Bendire thinks, lasts sixteen or seventeen days, and the young are fed solely on hulled pine seeds, at the first, presumably, regurgitated.

If the Corvine affinities of this bird were nowhere else betrayed, they might be known from the hunger cries of the young. The importunate _añh, añh, añh_ of the expectant bantling, and the subsequent _gullú, gullú, gullú_ of median deglutition (and boundless satisfaction) will always serve to bind the Crow, Magpie, and Nutcracker together in one compact group. When the youngsters are “ready for college,” the reserve of early spring is set aside and the hillsides are made to resound with much practice of that uncanny yell before mentioned. Family groups are gradually obliterated and, along in June, the birds of the foothills begin to retire irregularly to the higher ranges, either to rest up after the exhausting labors of the season, or to revel in midsummer gaiety with scores and hundreds of their fellows.

No. 6.
PINON JAY.

A. O. U. No. 492. Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus (Maxim.).

Synonyms.—Blue Crow. Maximilian’s Jay. Pine Jay.

Description.—_Adults_: Plumage dull grayish blue, deepening on crown
and nape, brightening on cheeks, paling below posteriorly, streaked
and grayish white on chin, throat and chest centrally; bill and feet
black; iris brown. _Young_ birds duller, gray rather than blue, except
on wings and tail. Length of adult males 11.00-12.00; wing 6.00 (154);
tail 4.50 (114); bill 1.42 (36); tarsus 1.50 (38). Female somewhat
smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue color; crow-like aspect.

Nesting.—Not supposed to nest in State.

General Range.—Piñon and juniper woods of western United States; north
to southern British Columbia (interior), Idaho, etc.; south to
Northern Lower California, Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas;
casually along the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mts.

Range in Washington.—One record by Capt. Bendire, Fort Simcoe, Yakima
Co., June, 1881, “quite numerous.” Presumably casual at close of
nesting season.

Authorities.—[“Maximilian’s Nutcracker,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884
(1885), 22.] _Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus_ (Wied), Bendire, Life Hist.
N. A. Birds, Vol. II. p. 425 (1895).

Specimens.—C.

Captain Bendire who is sole authority for the occurrence of this bird in Washington may best be allowed to speak here from his wide experience:

“The Piñon Jay, locally known as ‘Nutcracker,’ ‘Maximilian’s Jay,’ ‘Blue Crow,’ and as ‘Pinonario’ by the Mexicans, is rather a common resident in suitable localities throughout the southern portions of its range, while in the northern parts it is only a summer visitor, migrating regularly. It is most abundantly found throughout the piñon and cedar-covered foothills abounding between the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains and the eastern bases of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges in California, Nevada, and Oregon.

“It is an eminently sociable species at all times, even during the breeding season, and is usually seen in large compact flocks, moving about from place to place in search of feeding grounds, being on the whole rather restless and erratic in its movements; you may meet with thousands in a place to-day and perhaps to-morrow you will fail to see a single one. It is rarely met with at altitudes of over 9,000 feet in summer, and scarcely ever in the higher coniferous forests; its favorite haunts are the piñon-covered foothills of the minor mountain regions, the sweet and very palatable seeds of these trees furnishing its favorite food during a considerable portion of the year. In summer they feed largely on insects of all kinds, especially grasshoppers, and are quite expert in catching these on the wing; cedar and juniper berries, small seeds of various kinds, and different species of wild berries also enter largely into their bill of fare. A great deal of time is spent on the ground where they move along in compact bodies while feeding, much in the manner of Blackbirds, the rearmost birds rising from time to time, flying over the flock and alighting again in front of the main body; they are rather shy and alert while engaged in feeding. I followed a flock numbering several thousands which was feeding in the open pine forest bordering the Klamath Valley, Oregon, for more than half a mile, trying to get a shot at some of them, but in this I was unsuccessful. They would not allow me to get within range, and finally they became alarmed, took wing, and flew out of sight down the valley. On the next day, September 18, 1882, I saw a still larger flock, which revealed its presence by the noise made; these I headed off, and awaited their approach in a dense clump of small pines in which I had hidden; I had not long to wait and easily secured several specimens. On April 4, 1883, I saw another large flock feeding in the open woods, evidently on their return to their breeding grounds farther north, and by again getting in front of them I secured several fine males. These birds are said to breed in large numbers in the juniper groves near the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains, on the head waters of the Des Chutes River, Oregon. I have also seen them in the Yakima Valley, near old Fort Simcoe, in central Washington, in June, 1881, in an oak opening, where they were quite numerous. Their center of abundance, however, is in the piñon or nut-pine belt, which does not extend north of latitude 40°, if so far, and wherever these trees are found in large numbers the Piñon Jay can likewise be looked for with confidence.

“Their call notes are quite variable; some of them are almost as harsh as the ‘_chaar_’ of the Clarke’s Nutcracker, others partake much of the gabble of the Magpie, and still others resemble more those of the Jays. A shrill, querulous ‘_peeh, peeh_,’ or ‘_whee, whee_,’ is their common call note. While feeding on the ground they kept up a constant chattering, which can be heard for quite a distance, and in this way often betray their whereabouts.”

No. 7.
AMERICAN MAGPIE.

A. O. U. No. 475. Pica pica hudsonia (Sabine).

Synonym.—Black-billed Magpie.

Description.—_Adults_: Lustrous black with violet, purplish, green,
and bronzy iridescence, brightest on wings and tail; an elongated
scapular patch pure white; lower breast, upper abdomen, flanks and
sides broadly pure white; primaries extensively white on inner web; a
broad band on rump with large admixture of white; tail narrowly
graduated thru terminal three-fifths; bill and feet black; iris black.
_Young_ birds lack iridescence on head and are elsewhere duller;
relative length of tail sure index of age in juvenile specimens.
Length of adults 15.00-20.00, of which tail 8.00-12.00 (Av. 265); wing
7.85 (200); bill 1.35 (35.); tarsus 1.85 (47).

Recognition Marks.—Black-and-white plumage with long tail
unmistakable.

Nesting.—_Nest_: normally a large sphere of interlaced sticks, “as big
as a bushel basket,” placed 5-40 feet high in willow, aspen,
grease-wood or pine. The nest proper is a contained hemisphere of mud
8-10 inches across inside, and with walls 1-2 inches in thickness,
carefully lined for half its depth with twigs surmounted by a mat of
fine rootlets. _Eggs_: 7 or 8, rarely 10, pale grayish green, quite
uniformly freckled and spotted with olive green or olive brown.
Occasionally spots nearly confluent in heavy ring about larger end, in
which case remainder of egg likely to be less heavily marked than
usual. Shape variable, rounded ovate to elongate ovate. Av. size, 1.20
× .88 (30.5 × 22.3). _Season_: March 20-May 1; one brood.

General Range.—Western North America chiefly in treeless or sparsely
timbered areas from southern Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas
north to northwestern Alaska. Straggles eastward to west shore of
Hudson Bay, and occurs casually in North Central States, Nebraska,
etc. Replaced in California west of the Sierras by _Pica nuttalli_.

Range in Washington.—Confined to East-side during breeding season,
where of nearly universal distribution. Disappears along east slope of
Cascades and does not-deeply penetrate the mountain valleys. Migrates
regularly but sparingly thru mountain passes to West-side at close of
breeding season.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues,
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Pica hudsonica_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. pt. II. (1858), 578. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B.
E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) P. Prov. B. E. BN.

Here is another of those rascals in feathers who keep one alternately grumbling and admiring. As an abstract proposition one would not stake a _sou marquee_ on the virtue of a Magpie; but taken in the concrete, with a sly wink and a saucy tilt of the tail, one will rise to his feet, excitedly shouting, “Go it, Jackity,” and place all his earnings on this pie-bald steed in the race for avian honors. It is impossible to exaggerate this curious contradiction in Magpie nature, and in our resulting attitude towards it. It is much the same with the mischievous small boy. He has surpassed the bounds of legitimate naughtiness, and we take him on the parental knee for well-deserved correction. But the saucy culprit manages to steal a roguish glance at us,—a glance which challenges the remembrance of our own boyish pranks, and bids us ask what difference it will make twenty years after; and it is all off with discipline for that occasion.

The Magpie is indisputably a wretch, a miscreant, a cunning thief, a heartless marauder, a brigand bold—Oh, call him what you will! But, withal, he is such a picturesque villain, that as often as you are stirred with righteous indignation and impelled to punitive slaughter, you fall to wondering if your commission as avenger is properly countersigned, and—shirk the task outright.

The cattle men have it in for him, because the persecutions of the Magpie sometimes prevent scars made by the branding iron from healing; and cases are known in which young stock has died because of malignant sores resulting. This is, of course, a grave misdemeanor; but when the use of fences shall have fully displaced the present custom of branding, we shall probably hear no more of it.

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(?).