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common_nature2021-02-09 09:34 pm
julian) wrote in common_nature2021-02-09 09:34 pm
Some blue jays and other things (x-posted)
I took a walk today, before the snow really hit.
(We had a snowstorm. It accumulated more than I expected but less than would be *really* annoying, which is better than Sunday, in which it was the opposite.)
I met a whole bunch of blue jays. Here's one.
When I started, there was at least *some* light. As on this rock.
And this stream.
And this dam/waterfall.
These were all at the Historic Site near the Turner Reservoir. Um. *rummages* That is, the Hunt's Mills Museum, a former mill with still-present dam, in northern Rhode Island.
I then headed over to the Reservoir, and eventually found a metaphorical thicket of blue jays. And a weird noise that sounds *exactly* like a submarine sonar, which has been driving me crazy for awhile when I hang around blue jays. It seemed pretty obvious it was coming from them, but I couldn't figure out why. Or what it indicated. I thought maybe it might be flirting, but aside from juvenile hawks practicing, it seemed a bit early for that.
I interrupt this confused muttering for a picture. Have a flying blue jay and compatriots. From left to right, flying guy, normal squawking blue jay, sonaring blue jay. (It has, one might note, clouded up.)
To actually illustrate the sound, I would link a YouTube video, but none of the videos sound right, alas. According to a representative sample of things I've read, including on here, what they're doing is an alarm call; they're in theory imitating something else, but the something else they're in theory sounding like (red-shouldered hawks) sound somewhat different in actual life. But however, the point is, the sonaring is (sometimes) an alarm, to indicate a hawk may be nearby. But sometimes it isn't, because they're unpredictable like that. I expect a lot of the sonaring when I'm around is because I'm around and they're not entirely used to me.
Anyway. The *point* is, everyone in this next picture is pointing in a different direction, Looking And Listening Carefully In Alarm.
Random ivy and lack-of-fig tree.
A robin flies into the picture.
And now, tm Reader's Digest, Drama In Real Life! at the birdfeeder (It had, by this point, started snowing.)
And finally, storm.
(We had a snowstorm. It accumulated more than I expected but less than would be *really* annoying, which is better than Sunday, in which it was the opposite.)
I met a whole bunch of blue jays. Here's one.
When I started, there was at least *some* light. As on this rock.
And this stream.
And this dam/waterfall.
These were all at the Historic Site near the Turner Reservoir. Um. *rummages* That is, the Hunt's Mills Museum, a former mill with still-present dam, in northern Rhode Island.
I then headed over to the Reservoir, and eventually found a metaphorical thicket of blue jays. And a weird noise that sounds *exactly* like a submarine sonar, which has been driving me crazy for awhile when I hang around blue jays. It seemed pretty obvious it was coming from them, but I couldn't figure out why. Or what it indicated. I thought maybe it might be flirting, but aside from juvenile hawks practicing, it seemed a bit early for that.
I interrupt this confused muttering for a picture. Have a flying blue jay and compatriots. From left to right, flying guy, normal squawking blue jay, sonaring blue jay. (It has, one might note, clouded up.)
To actually illustrate the sound, I would link a YouTube video, but none of the videos sound right, alas. According to a representative sample of things I've read, including on here, what they're doing is an alarm call; they're in theory imitating something else, but the something else they're in theory sounding like (red-shouldered hawks) sound somewhat different in actual life. But however, the point is, the sonaring is (sometimes) an alarm, to indicate a hawk may be nearby. But sometimes it isn't, because they're unpredictable like that. I expect a lot of the sonaring when I'm around is because I'm around and they're not entirely used to me.
Anyway. The *point* is, everyone in this next picture is pointing in a different direction, Looking And Listening Carefully In Alarm.
Random ivy and lack-of-fig tree.
A robin flies into the picture.
And now, tm Reader's Digest, Drama In Real Life! at the birdfeeder (It had, by this point, started snowing.)
And finally, storm.
no subject
This one, to be excessively specific, isn't my set of feeders. (Mine's getting a lot of chickadees, which is gr-eat. I love them.)