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THE BUSY BLUE JAY
BY OLIVE THORNE MILLER (ADAPTED)
ONE of the most interesting birds who ever lived in my Bird
Room was a blue jay named Jakie. He was full of business
from morning till night, scarcely ever a moment still.
Poor little fellow! He had been stolen from the nest before
he could fly, and reared in a house, long before he was
given to me. Of course he could not be set free, for he did
not know how to take care of himself.
Jays are very active birds, and being shut up in a room, my
blue jay had to find things to do, to keep himself busy. If
he had been allowed to grow up out of doors, he would have
found plenty to do, planting acorns and nuts, nesting, and
bringing up families.
Sometimes the things he did in the house were what we call
mischief because they annoy us, such as hammering the
woodwork to pieces, tearing bits out of the leaves of books,
 in chair seats, or pounding a cardboard box to pieces. But
how is a poor little bird to know what is mischief?
Many things which Jakie did were very funny. For instance,
he made it his business to clear up the room. When he had
more food than he could eat at the moment, he did not leave
it around, but put it away carefully,—not in the garbage
pail, for that was not in the room, but in some safe nook
where it did not offend the eye. Sometimes it was behind the
tray in his cage, or among the books on the shelf. The
places he liked best were about me,—in the fold of a
ruffle or the loop of a bow on my dress, and sometimes in
the side of my slipper. The very choicest place of all was
in my loosely bound hair. That, of course, I could not
allow, and I had to keep very close watch of him, for fear I
might have a bit of bread or meat thrust among my locks.
In his clearing up he always went carefully over the floor,
picking up pins, or any little thing he could find, and I
often dropped burnt matches, buttons, and other small things
to give him something to do. These he would pick up and put
Pins Jakie took lengthwise in his beak, and at first I
thought he had swallowed them, till I saw him hunt up a
proper place to hide them. The place he chose was between
the leaves of a book.
 He would push a pin far in out of sight, and then go after
another. A match he always tried to put in a crack, under
the baseboard, between the breadths of matting, or under my
rockers. He first placed it, and then tried to hammer it in
out of sight. He could seldom get it in far enough to suit
him, and this worried him. Then he would take it out and try
Once the blue jay found a good match, of the parlor match
variety. He put it between the breadths of matting, and then
began to pound on it as usual. Pretty soon he hit the
unburnt end and it went off with a loud crack, as parlor
matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two feet into the air, nearly
frightened out of his wits; and I was frightened, too, for I
feared he might set the house on fire.
Often when I got up from my chair a shower of the bird's
playthings would fall from his various hiding-places about
my dress,—nails, matches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and
other things. Then he had to begin his work all over again.
Jakie liked a small ball or a marble. His game was to give
it a hard peck and see it roll. If it rolled away from him,
he ran after it and pecked again; but sometimes it rolled
toward him, and then he bounded into the air as if he
thought it would bite. And what was funny, he was always
offended at this conduct of the ball, and went off sulky for
 He was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm outside the
windows made him wild. He would fly around the room,
squawking at the top of his voice; and the horrible tin
horns the boys liked to blow at Thanksgiving and Christmas
drove him frantic.
Once I brought a Christmas tree into the room to please the
birds, and all were delighted with it except my poor little
blue jay, who was much afraid of it. Think of the sadness of
a bird being afraid of a tree!
Jakie had decided opinions about people who came into the
room to see me, or to see the birds. At some persons he
would squawk every moment. Others he saluted with a queer
cry like "Ob-ble! ob-ble! ob-ble!" Once when a lady came in
with a baby, he fixed his eyes on that infant with a savage
look as if he would like to peck it, and jumped back and
forth in his cage, panting but perfectly silent.
Jakie was very devoted to me. He always greeted me with a
low, sweet chatter, with wings quivering, and, if he were
out of the cage, he would come on the back of my chair and
touch my cheek or lips very gently with his beak, or offer
me a bit of food if he had any; and to me alone when no one
else was near, he sang a low,
 exquisite song. I afterwards heard a similar song sung by a
wild blue jay to his mate while she was sitting, and so I
knew that my dear little captive had given me his sweetest—his
One of Jakie's amusements was dancing across the back of a
tall chair, taking funny little steps, coming down hard,
"jouncing" his body, and whistling as loud as he could. He
would keep up this funny performance as long as anybody
would stand before him and pretend to dance too.
My jay was fond of a sensation. One of his dearest bits of
fun was to drive the birds into a panic. This he did by
flying furiously around the room, feathers rustling, and
squawking as loud as he could. He usually managed to fly
just over the head of each bird, and as he came like a
catapult, every one flew before him, so that in a minute the
room was full of birds flying madly about, trying to get out
of his way. This gave him great pleasure.
Once a grasshopper got into the Bird Room, probably brought
in clinging to some one's dress in the way grasshoppers do.
Jakie was in his cage, but he noticed the stranger
instantly, and I opened the door for him. He went at once to
look at the grasshopper, and when it hopped he was so
startled that he hopped too. Then he picked the insect up,
but he did not know what to do with it, so he dropped it
again. Again the grasshopper
 jumped directly up, and again the jay did the same. This
they did over and over, till every one was tired laughing at
them. It looked as if they were trying to see who could jump
There was another bird in the room, however, who knew what
grasshoppers were good for. He was an orchard oriole, and
after looking on awhile, he came down and carried off the
hopper to eat. The jay did not like to lose his plaything;
he ran after the thief, and stood on the floor giving low
cries and looking on while the oriole on a chair was eating
the dead grasshopper. When the oriole happened to drop it,
Jakie,—who had got a new idea what to do with
grasshoppers,—snatched it up and carried it under a chair
and finished it.
I could tell many more stories about my bird, but I have
told them before in one of my "grown-up" books, so I will
not repeat them here.