After Johnny was named General Manager of the Leavenworth Times, we started building a home at the Lake of the Ozarks. We enjoyed swimming and boating at the lake for many years.
One spring morning while sitting on the lake level porch, I watched a blue jay building a nest. The area they choose was not very far from our lake house and I could see the two adults starting their love nest. Two branches jutted outward and upward several feet from the edge of the porch. Not a very good place for a nest, in my estimation, but what do I know about bird nests?
Being at the lake house every weekend we saw the weekly progress. I couldn’t discern the difference between Mr. and Mrs. Blue Jay. Both were diligent in the effort to raise their brood.
Soon little heads appeared and the family grew. One of the parents would leave the next with something in the beak. I think the ‘something’ was ‘little bird’ manure. The parent (bet it was the mother) was cleaning house. The babies grew and soon I saw them lift their heads and open their beaks until each was fed.
The neighbor’s cat, Morris, joined me on the chaise lounge while I enjoyed watching the water, reading, and resting. Morris is a story to be told later. He was an exceptional animal. Morris and I watched the parents feeding their brood. Morris did not see or really watch the blue jay family so all were safe. Occasionally ‘dad’ bird wouldn’t do it just right and ‘mom’ bird would scold him. This was so much fun to watch!
I couldn’t count the babies at first. Later I discovered there were five. The baby birds were very active and kept the parents busy feeding them. Every weekend they were a little larger and eventually able to leave the nest.
One by one, flapping their wings and hopping about, the babies moved out of the nest and onto nearby branches; all of them except Scrawny. He was stuck! He had one foot stuck and couldn’t get free. The parents encouraged the brood but there was nothing they could do for poor Scrawny. He tugged and pulled for hours and finally pulled free, only to fall down the trunk of the tree to the ground. Poor Scrawny was at the mercy of the elements and another problem loomed – Morris! Nature is sometimes cruel – it is natural for a predator to take the weak. Cats are predators and Scrawny was helpless in this situation. He was doomed to die!
I could not let that happen. After putting on gloves, I picked up the little bird and placed him on a tree limb. He promptly fell off. My husband and I were about to head toward our Leavenworth home and poor Scrawny was on the ground again. Morris was sitting on our deck just feet away. I couldn’t leave the bird to be a meal for a cat. I placed the little bird on another branch and made sure his toes were firmly holding him on the tree limb.
He appeared to be very frightened - his eyes were tightly closed. As we were getting into the car to go home, I looked down the hillside and saw the little bird still sitting on the branch – just sitting there.
The parent birds were talking to all of the babies and feeding them. I’m not sure I saw Scrawny again.
I’d like to think at least one of the brood survived because there were plenty of blue jays in the trees for years to come.
Maybe one of them was Scrawny!
One spring morning while sitting on the lake level porch, I watched a blue jay building a nest. The area they choose was not very far from our lake house and I could see the two adults starting their love nest. Two branches jutted outward and upward several feet from the edge of the porch. Not a very good place for a nest, in my estimation, but what do I know about bird nests?
Being at the lake house every weekend we saw the weekly progress. I couldn’t discern the difference between Mr. and Mrs. Blue Jay. Both were diligent in the effort to raise their brood.
Soon little heads appeared and the family grew. One of the parents would leave the next with something in the beak. I think the ‘something’ was ‘little bird’ manure. The parent (bet it was the mother) was cleaning house. The babies grew and soon I saw them lift their heads and open their beaks until each was fed.
The neighbor’s cat, Morris, joined me on the chaise lounge while I enjoyed watching the water, reading, and resting. Morris is a story to be told later. He was an exceptional animal. Morris and I watched the parents feeding their brood. Morris did not see or really watch the blue jay family so all were safe. Occasionally ‘dad’ bird wouldn’t do it just right and ‘mom’ bird would scold him. This was so much fun to watch!
I couldn’t count the babies at first. Later I discovered there were five. The baby birds were very active and kept the parents busy feeding them. Every weekend they were a little larger and eventually able to leave the nest.
One by one, flapping their wings and hopping about, the babies moved out of the nest and onto nearby branches; all of them except Scrawny. He was stuck! He had one foot stuck and couldn’t get free. The parents encouraged the brood but there was nothing they could do for poor Scrawny. He tugged and pulled for hours and finally pulled free, only to fall down the trunk of the tree to the ground. Poor Scrawny was at the mercy of the elements and another problem loomed – Morris! Nature is sometimes cruel – it is natural for a predator to take the weak. Cats are predators and Scrawny was helpless in this situation. He was doomed to die!
I could not let that happen. After putting on gloves, I picked up the little bird and placed him on a tree limb. He promptly fell off. My husband and I were about to head toward our Leavenworth home and poor Scrawny was on the ground again. Morris was sitting on our deck just feet away. I couldn’t leave the bird to be a meal for a cat. I placed the little bird on another branch and made sure his toes were firmly holding him on the tree limb.
He appeared to be very frightened - his eyes were tightly closed. As we were getting into the car to go home, I looked down the hillside and saw the little bird still sitting on the branch – just sitting there.
The parent birds were talking to all of the babies and feeding them. I’m not sure I saw Scrawny again.
I’d like to think at least one of the brood survived because there were plenty of blue jays in the trees for years to come.
Maybe one of them was Scrawny!
The author, Annie Walker Johnston (LHS Class of 1954) is a Leavenworth resident and wife of the late J.H. Johnston III, former Leavenworth Times publisher.
Copyright 2011 Leavenworth Times. Some rights reserved
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