Identification Frustration

Boy oh boy (oh boy!) do I generally stink at identification.

Mockingbird!

Bluejay!

(fat, complacent) Eastern Grey Squirrel!

Sure I can nail the names of the handful of regular visitors to these spaces (as could most third graders), but when it comes birds especially, I am as often as not totally stumped when pressed to determine anything other than the most general typology.

I wish it wasn't so.  I search out and spend hours on sites featuring recorded songs, rows of photos, silhouettes and habitat maps just to be able to say with confidence "that is a juvenile female Flibberty Gib.  They are migratory, generally traveling in mated pairs".

As it typically turns out, whatever I've taken a photograph of doesn't look exactly like anything on the sites.  I'll think I've narrowed the process down to a positive ID only to realize my bird in the photo doesn't have the "characteristic identifying" patch of color for this, or the "distinctive tail shape" for that.

Maybe "my" bird has been visiting the feeder all by its lonesome when the text about the species I think it might be clearly states "these birds travel in large numbers often overwhelming feeder sites".

Case in point?  This adorable little gal (because I decided she was a she, that's why!), who I've seen off and on the past few days.  I finally snagged a couple of shots from waaaay far away.

She's shy.  Even though I kept all the way across the yard once she noticed me she shot me an annoyed glance and promptly flew off (ahem, caff!) exhibiting the characteristic roller coaster flight of a goldfinch.  (Sorry.)
 

I spent way too much time trying, and yet I've still got no firm grasp of what particular sort of goldfinch she might be, because I couldn't find one single description or photo that precisely overlapped.

If you know, feel free to weigh in below in the comments section.  At the moment I'm leaning towards saying she is a Garbo Finch, (Finchus mysteriosus), noted for their tendency to shun paparazzi and travel sans entourage.  Anybody else want to weigh in?

Morning Fracas

Early this morning, the only thing louder than the sound of grinding coffee beans was the continual scolding of a band of blue jays, gathered in the branches of a cedar by a back corner of our house over a rain barrel.

My indoor cats assumed the same thing I did - that the jays were heralding the approach of the little feral outdoor tuxedo cat we've been feeding.

We've been playing the long game with this cat, hoping to get it tame enough to take it in to the vet and get it shots and neutering, though since a year has passed without a pregnancy, and we are pretty sure it is a "she", it could be an abandoned cat rather than a completely wild one.  She is simply too hungry too often to currently belong to anybody.

Our cats went with me to the deck door and waited...  The stray failed to show and the jays were still going at it around the corner of our house with nary a pause. I returned to the back window to get a closer look.  Peering up in the predawn half-light, I could tell the jays were definitely concerned with something apparently up at their level, perhaps in the tree itself.  As I shifted to get a better vantage point,  I noted the silhouette of a cardinal mixed in with the jays, intent on, something....

The last time there were two or more types of birds fussing in tandem this way it was to protest the presence of a little fledgling screech owl in one of our loquat trees.

That particular morning it was jays and mockingbirds working together and I noted a pattern to their process which repeated this morning.

The jays leaned in and screamed and jumped around, while the mockingbirds, in the case of the owl, hopped up and down and eventually dive bombed the hapless youngster.

This morning was similar.  The jays made all sorts of racket, but it was the little cardinal who determinedly hopped up on the corner of our house, and made several offensive jumps at the following, which rolled off the roof shortly thereafter, lying stunned on the rock walkway below.

Texas Rat Snake

It was a Texas Rat Snake (Elpahe obsoleta lindheimeri), about two-three feet in length, and even though I'm not a fan of the idea of them falling off rooftops or out of trees so close to my personal self first thing in the morning?  I am a total booster of the idea that their presence serves as a deterrent to the local tree rats. Those rats I am even less fond of, under any and every circumstance.  

After the adrenaline rush abated a bit I realized two things.  First up was that blue jays are very effective in giving the signal that some predator is in the area but they don't seem to do much else other than yell about it.  In both cases I observed in our environs, the jays only made noise while it was other birds who made an actual attempt to fend off the predator in play.  

Maybe that is totally cool with the other birds in question, all part of the deal, but really it did a great deal to reinforce my outsider's impression that the local party of blue jays and certain shouty television journalists have much in common.  

The second thing I realized was that I have come a long way with regards to my reactions to snakes.  In the old days I would have realized the worry for the birds was a relatively harmless to humans rat snake after I'd made a major effort to chop the poor thing's head off.  My original approach was that the only good snake was a smashed dead snake, especially when it came down to anything longer or larger than a number two pencil.  

Now, I know all snakes are not created evil equal.  It is better to take a good deep breath and check out the shape of a snake's head. If it is non-triangular, as this snake's head is,  it is a good guess whatever it is, no matter the size, is not a threat to me as long as I keep my distance and don't try to corner or harass it in any way.

Which is fine with me,  I think I'll just take a page out of the birds' notebook and leave all that harassing up to the jays.    

This has me wondering.....

Day before yesterday I was enjoying another varied and fun post from Philip of East Side Patch, wherein he was describing, among other adventures, seeing and snapping a close up shot of a baby jay that had apparently flown the coop.  Or nest, rather.

He reported the jay was relatively unconcerned with his attention though it did have its limits.  After posing for a couple of patented ESP blog close ups, the baby jay made its way over to safer, or at least less populated with paparazzi territory.

Yesterday, I was out to sweep off our front porch, partaking in that annual frustration fest otherwise known as trying to keep ahead of the oak tree pollen piles, when I noted, underneath a small table to the side of our door, a concentrated pile of another sort.  Hmmm.  It looked like.... bird poop?

I leaned over to get a closer look (yup, that's me in a nutshell folks, there is what looks like poop on the porch and I LEAN IN to get a closer look out of curiosity).  In so doing I startled yet another baby jay, this one not quite ready for prime time flying.  It gave out an unearthly squawk of terrific volume and starting hop-skip-jumping down towards the driveway.

I managed to get this one shot from afar, not wanting to distress the young bird any more than being grounded while its Momma was in the tree yelling (support? accusations? directions?).

Later on while my daughter and I were out appreciating the weather and the blooms out front, we overheard a conversation between a father and his young daughter, walking over to the neighborhood park.  He was clearly fielding questions about baby birds that had fallen out of their nests.  She was remarking, "when I fall out of MY bed the first thing I want to do is get right back in!".

This has me wondering.  Do Blue Jay nests come with built-in ejector seats?