It was really quiet as we took our early morning walk. Me, thinking, Thoreau said an early morning walk is “a blessing for the whole day.” I’ve thought that before and mentioned it in one of these posts before, sorry. But it’s unavoidable. To be out at dawn—and dawn’s pretty dark this time of year, is just a cool thing. Cool in both meanings.
It’s to be appreciated. As is Thoreau and some things he’s said. But it’s so still on this dark dawn. No wildlife. Just a lot of plant life. Trees, bushes, aggressive in our woodsy area. Now a little more light is coming over the trees. The dog and I know this scene, this routine, this moment, and we appreciate it. But a bird or two would make a nice note.
Sometimes we see a coyote stopped in the distance staring at the dog. Pointy snout, beady eyes, sexy wildness in a somewhat tame setting where suburbia touches woodlands. But this morning nothing moves.
Birdwatching is a priority. They said in the beginning—go early, kid, that’s when you’ll see birds. I have found that to be BS. Birds, like people, are scarce at dawn. I’ve seen many birds over a long time at it, mostly when the sun’s up. The life list is good now and it’s hard to find something new. These days it’s just a blessing to find a repeat. Hell, I’ve seen Pileated Woodpeckers, Summer Tanagers and Bald Eagles walking distance from home.
The dog doesn’t care. His focus is on whatever smells so interesting on the ground. But he did look up at the distant coyote that time, and their eyes met. My intuition is that he felt no fear, that he wanted to either greet the coyote or something ancient in his own genes said he wanted to eat the coyote. Dog DNA, you gotta marvel.
It’s getting lighter now and the sides of the treetops that still hold some colorful leaves are getting lit on one side by yellow light, cool. Gotta think of Thoreau’s quote again, although we don’t want to get sappy about it. Time to go home and start the day. Or restart the day. The start’s already happened, and it was out here in this dawn, with trees and quiet and a lightening sky.
Then, wait, a hoarse call, a kind of screech but not unmusical, a loud single-note blast of sound cuts the quiet moment in half. I thought: what could that be? Only candidate that made sense: a Jay. I had no hope of actually spotting it. The sound came from overhead somewhere but it’s unclear where. Lot of clutter in the shadowy treetops. Hope the sound comes again. It doesn’t.
But wait, incredibly, there’s a bird there momentarily revealed through branches and dying leaves right overhead. I get a good look for half a second. A bit more sun is out now, and a ray hits this bird. A jay. In a ray. A Blue Jay of course. I’ve seen most of the Jays. Even a plain “Jay” with no modifier in Europe years ago. Two kinds of Scrub Jays in the American South. A Steller’s Jay out West. But the clear favorite for reasons of design and personality is the Blue Jay, a resident around here and a buddy who’s been fun to see since I was a kid.
And on this quiet morning just as we were about to call it a day, this Jay said hey. A greeting that we both know wasn’t entirely by accident, or at least that’s the way we’re calling it.
This story is proof that. Jay walking is sometimes a good thing to do.
Sounds like the best way to start the day. Blue jays always struck me as loud and cocky but I guess if you look as regal as they do then it kinda makes sense.
Nice post. Thanks
Beautiful prose with captivating observations — the reader takes a walk with the writer at dawn of day. The writer sees it all for us and that jay greets us at sun up.
Nice, thanks; there is nothing like a dog. I’m in Europe at the moment, and have seen a couple of plain Jays. Maybe I’ll try to get out walking earlier when I get back.
What a spectacular bird. And what a wonderful way to start the day!