OUR RETARDED CHILD

As some of you know, we’ve made friends with a bluejay couple. They’ve become used to us out in the back yard, and always swoop down from the sky, screaming obscenities at us when we come out from the house. They’re not afraid of us at all (what a fantastic compliment). They’ll sit on a branch directly above our heads and preen themselves, that’s how relaxed they are around us.

A week or so ago, Mike saw a baby bluejay on the ground. It must have fallen, or jumped out of its nest (we think our couple have built a nest in the neighbor’s palm tree). It was too young to fly, so it just kindof bounced across the yard toward him. He didn’t tell me about it, because he was afraid it would die, and I would be upset. So, kind soul that he is, he waited for a few days to see if the little thing would survive, before telling me.

Well he did survive.

We brought him a pan of water, and sat out by the shed with binoculars. Just a few minutes after we’d placed the pan of water down, and retreated to our chairs by the shed, we saw him perched on the edge of the pan.

With all the extremely hot weather, he must have been parched. I saw through the binoculars that his little bulgy eyes were closed. He had an expression of intense relief, as though, in finding the water dish, he’d survived a kind of holocaust.

We named him Junior.

What a retarded little bird! His flight feathers hadn’t grown yet, so he was all raggedy. He bounced all over the yard, not at all concerned about the fact that he was ... um ... pretty much helpless prey.

Mike and I learned that if we wanted to find him, all we had to do was wait quietly by the shed. As soon as the parents came swooping into the yard, Junior would let loose with his ‛FEED ME NOW!’ scream. It’s a very distinctive cry. Kindof hoarse and grating, like a rusty hinge. We took note of where the parents landed, and crept closer with our binoculars, to see the parent thrusting a bug (or something) into our little Junior’s gaping beak.

Unfortunately, Junior is not the smartest bird. He’s a bit ... special ... which explains the fact that he fell, or jumped, out of the nest in the first place. Junior is a wanderer. He does not wish to remain in one place. So he’s left our yard.

Last we saw of him, he’d bounced clear across our yard. Away from the fence beneath his family nest in the neighbors palm tree, to the fence on the opposite side. There he was, bouncing around under the rose bushes.

That fence has a Junior sized gap. Well, the silly retarded adventurous bird bounced on through.

We thought he’d died and gone on to meet Jimi Hendrix. But yesterday I heard, through the bathroom window that faces the neighbors yard, the distinctive “FEED ME!” cry. And again today, I heard it several times. So we think Junior is alive and well, living in the neighbor’s yard.

Lets all keep our fingers crossed for the little mental case.