Part 4

If the Corvine affinities of this bird were nowhere else betrayed, they might be known from the hunger cries of the young. The importunate _añh, añh, añh_ of the expectant bantling, and the subsequent _gullú, gullú, gullú_ of median deglutition (and boundless satisfaction) will always serve to bind the Crow, Magpie, and Nutcracker together in one compact group. When the youngsters are “ready for college,” the reserve of early spring is set aside and the hillsides are made to resound with much practice of that uncanny yell before mentioned. Family groups are gradually obliterated and, along in June, the birds of the foothills begin to retire irregularly to the higher ranges, either to rest up after the exhausting labors of the season, or to revel in midsummer gaiety with scores and hundreds of their fellows.

No. 6. PINON JAY.

A. O. U. No. 492. Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus (Maxim.).

Synonyms.—Blue Crow. Maximilian’s Jay. Pine Jay.

Description.—_Adults_: Plumage dull grayish blue, deepening on crown and nape, brightening on cheeks, paling below posteriorly, streaked and grayish white on chin, throat and chest centrally; bill and feet black; iris brown. _Young_ birds duller, gray rather than blue, except on wings and tail. Length of adult males 11.00-12.00; wing 6.00 (154); tail 4.50 (114); bill 1.42 (36); tarsus 1.50 (38). Female somewhat smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue color; crow-like aspect.

Nesting.—Not supposed to nest in State.

General Range.—Piñon and juniper woods of western United States; north to southern British Columbia (interior), Idaho, etc.; south to Northern Lower California, Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas; casually along the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mts.

Range in Washington.—One record by Capt. Bendire, Fort Simcoe, Yakima Co., June, 1881, “quite numerous.” Presumably casual at close of nesting season.

Authorities.—[“Maximilian’s Nutcracker,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22.] _Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus_ (Wied), Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II. p. 425 (1895).

Specimens.—C.

Captain Bendire who is sole authority for the occurrence of this bird in Washington may best be allowed to speak here from his wide experience:

“The Piñon Jay, locally known as ‘Nutcracker,’ ‘Maximilian’s Jay,’ ‘Blue Crow,’ and as ‘Pinonario’ by the Mexicans, is rather a common resident in suitable localities throughout the southern portions of its range, while in the northern parts it is only a summer visitor, migrating regularly. It is most abundantly found throughout the piñon and cedar-covered foothills abounding between the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains and the eastern bases of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges in California, Nevada, and Oregon.

“It is an eminently sociable species at all times, even during the breeding season, and is usually seen in large compact flocks, moving about from place to place in search of feeding grounds, being on the whole rather restless and erratic in its movements; you may meet with thousands in a place to-day and perhaps to-morrow you will fail to see a single one. It is rarely met with at altitudes of over 9,000 feet in summer, and scarcely ever in the higher coniferous forests; its favorite haunts are the piñon-covered foothills of the minor mountain regions, the sweet and very palatable seeds of these trees furnishing its favorite food during a considerable portion of the year. In summer they feed largely on insects of all kinds, especially grasshoppers, and are quite expert in catching these on the wing; cedar and juniper berries, small seeds of various kinds, and different species of wild berries also enter largely into their bill of fare. A great deal of time is spent on the ground where they move along in compact bodies while feeding, much in the manner of Blackbirds, the rearmost birds rising from time to time, flying over the flock and alighting again in front of the main body; they are rather shy and alert while engaged in feeding. I followed a flock numbering several thousands which was feeding in the open pine forest bordering the Klamath Valley, Oregon, for more than half a mile, trying to get a shot at some of them, but in this I was unsuccessful. They would not allow me to get within range, and finally they became alarmed, took wing, and flew out of sight down the valley. On the next day, September 18, 1882, I saw a still larger flock, which revealed its presence by the noise made; these I headed off, and awaited their approach in a dense clump of small pines in which I had hidden; I had not long to wait and easily secured several specimens. On April 4, 1883, I saw another large flock feeding in the open woods, evidently on their return to their breeding grounds farther north, and by again getting in front of them I secured several fine males. These birds are said to breed in large numbers in the juniper groves near the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains, on the head waters of the Des Chutes River, Oregon. I have also seen them in the Yakima Valley, near old Fort Simcoe, in central Washington, in June, 1881, in an oak opening, where they were quite numerous. Their center of abundance, however, is in the piñon or nut-pine belt, which does not extend north of latitude 40°, if so far, and wherever these trees are found in large numbers the Piñon Jay can likewise be looked for with confidence.

“Their call notes are quite variable; some of them are almost as harsh as the ‘_chaar_’ of the Clarke’s Nutcracker, others partake much of the gabble of the Magpie, and still others resemble more those of the Jays. A shrill, querulous ‘_peeh, peeh_,’ or ‘_whee, whee_,’ is their common call note. While feeding on the ground they kept up a constant chattering, which can be heard for quite a distance, and in this way often betray their whereabouts.”

No. 7. AMERICAN MAGPIE.

A. O. U. No. 475. Pica pica hudsonia (Sabine).

Synonym.—Black-billed Magpie.

Description.—_Adults_: Lustrous black with violet, purplish, green, and bronzy iridescence, brightest on wings and tail; an elongated scapular patch pure white; lower breast, upper abdomen, flanks and sides broadly pure white; primaries extensively white on inner web; a broad band on rump with large admixture of white; tail narrowly graduated thru terminal three-fifths; bill and feet black; iris black. _Young_ birds lack iridescence on head and are elsewhere duller; relative length of tail sure index of age in juvenile specimens. Length of adults 15.00-20.00, of which tail 8.00-12.00 (Av. 265); wing 7.85 (200); bill 1.35 (35.); tarsus 1.85 (47).

Recognition Marks.—Black-and-white plumage with long tail unmistakable.

Nesting.—_Nest_: normally a large sphere of interlaced sticks, “as big as a bushel basket,” placed 5-40 feet high in willow, aspen, grease-wood or pine. The nest proper is a contained hemisphere of mud 8-10 inches across inside, and with walls 1-2 inches in thickness, carefully lined for half its depth with twigs surmounted by a mat of fine rootlets. _Eggs_: 7 or 8, rarely 10, pale grayish green, quite uniformly freckled and spotted with olive green or olive brown. Occasionally spots nearly confluent in heavy ring about larger end, in which case remainder of egg likely to be less heavily marked than usual. Shape variable, rounded ovate to elongate ovate. Av. size, 1.20 × .88 (30.5 × 22.3). _Season_: March 20-May 1; one brood.

General Range.—Western North America chiefly in treeless or sparsely timbered areas from southern Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas north to northwestern Alaska. Straggles eastward to west shore of Hudson Bay, and occurs casually in North Central States, Nebraska, etc. Replaced in California west of the Sierras by _Pica nuttalli_.

Range in Washington.—Confined to East-side during breeding season, where of nearly universal distribution. Disappears along east slope of Cascades and does not-deeply penetrate the mountain valleys. Migrates regularly but sparingly thru mountain passes to West-side at close of breeding season.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues, Vol. II. p. 185.] _Pica hudsonica_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. pt. II. (1858), 578. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B. E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) P. Prov. B. E. BN.

Here is another of those rascals in feathers who keep one alternately grumbling and admiring. As an abstract proposition one would not stake a _sou marquee_ on the virtue of a Magpie; but taken in the concrete, with a sly wink and a saucy tilt of the tail, one will rise to his feet, excitedly shouting, “Go it, Jackity,” and place all his earnings on this pie-bald steed in the race for avian honors. It is impossible to exaggerate this curious contradiction in Magpie nature, and in our resulting attitude towards it. It is much the same with the mischievous small boy. He has surpassed the bounds of legitimate naughtiness, and we take him on the parental knee for well-deserved correction. But the saucy culprit manages to steal a roguish glance at us,—a glance which challenges the remembrance of our own boyish pranks, and bids us ask what difference it will make twenty years after; and it is all off with discipline for that occasion.

The Magpie is indisputably a wretch, a miscreant, a cunning thief, a heartless marauder, a brigand bold—Oh, call him what you will! But, withal, he is such a picturesque villain, that as often as you are stirred with righteous indignation and impelled to punitive slaughter, you fall to wondering if your commission as avenger is properly countersigned, and—shirk the task outright.

The cattle men have it in for him, because the persecutions of the Magpie sometimes prevent scars made by the branding iron from healing; and cases are known in which young stock has died because of malignant sores resulting. This is, of course, a grave misdemeanor; but when the use of fences shall have fully displaced the present custom of branding, we shall probably hear no more of it.

Beyond this it is indisputably true that Magpies are professional nest robbers. At times they organize systematic searching parties, and advance thru the sage-brush, poking, prying, spying, and devouring, with the ruthlessness and precision of a pestilence. Not only eggs but young birds are appropriated. I once saw a Magpie seize a half-grown Meadowlark from its nest, carry it to its own domicile, and parcel it out among its clamoring brood. Then, in spite of the best defense the agonized parents could institute, it calmly returned and selected another. Sticks and stones shied by the bird-man merely deferred the doom of the remaining larks. The Magpie was not likely to forget the whereabouts of such easy meat.

Nor is such a connoisseur of eggs likely to overlook the opportunities afforded by a poultry yard. He becomes an adept at purloining eggs, and can make off with his booty with astonishing ease. One early morning, seeing a Magpie fly over the corral with something large and white in his bill, and believing that he had alighted not far beyond, I followed quickly and frightened him from a large hen’s egg, which bore externally the marks of the bird’s bill, but which was unpierced. Of course the only remedy for such a habit is the shot-gun.

To say that Magpies are garrulous would be as trite as to say hens cackle, and the adjective could not be better defined than “talking like a Magpie.” The Magpie is the symbol of loquacity. The very type in which this is printed is small _pica_; that is small _Magpie_. Much of this bird’s conversation is undoubtedly unfit for print, but it has always the merit of vivacity. A party of Magpies will keep up a running commentary on current events, now facetious, now vehement, as they move about; while a comparative cessation of the racket means, as likely as not, that some favorite raconteur is holding forth, and that there will be an explosion of riotous laughter when his tale is done. The pie, like Nero, aspires to song; but no sycophant will be found to praise him, for he intersperses his more tuneful musings with chacks and barks and harsh interjections which betray a disordered taste. In modulation and quality, however, the notes sometimes verge upon the human; and it is well known that Magpies can be instructed until they acquire a handsome repertoire of speech.

In order that their double quartet of youngsters may be lined up for the egg harvest, the Magpies take an early start at home building. April is the nesting month, but I have two records for March 30th,—one of five eggs at Chelan, and one of eight in Yakima County. In the latter instance the first egg must have been deposited not later than March 18th. And because the season affords him no protection, the Magpie resorts to two expedients in nest building in lieu of concealment: he first seeks retirement, the depths of some lonesome swamp, an unfrequented draw, or wooded spring, in the foothills, and then he erects a castle which would do credit to a feudal baron. The nest is a ball of interlacing sticks set about a hollow half-sphere of dried mud. The amount of labor expended upon one of these structures is prodigious. The greasewood nest shown in the accompanying cut is three feet deep and two feet thru, and the component sticks are so firmly interwoven that no ordinary agency, short of the human hand, can effect an entrance. The bird enters thru an obscure passage in one side, and, if surprised upon the nest, has always a way of escape planned thru the opposite wall. The mud cup is carefully shaped with walls an inch or two in thickness, a total breadth of eight or ten inches, and a like depth. In the best construction this cavity is filled to a depth of three or four inches with a loose mat of fine twigs of a uniform size. Upon this in turn is placed a coiled mattress of fine, clean rootlets, the whole affording a very sanitary arrangement.

Another fortress, of single construction, was four feet deep and three and a half feet thru; and that, too, after making liberal allowance for chance projections. The component sticks measure up to three feet in length and three-quarters of an inch in thickness. Nests are repaired and re-occupied year after year; or if they fall into hopeless decay, new structures are erected upon the ruins of the old. The tenement photographed on Homely Island is a double nest (it looks triple, but the upper third is merely the dome for the central portion, or nest proper), and measures seven feet from top to bottom. It contained seven eggs on April 24th, 1905, but altho the oölogist is very fond of little Magpies’ eggs, he left these as a tribute to Mr. and Mrs. Cheops.

This historic pile is in marked contrast to one sighted in a willow on the banks of Crab Creek near Odessa. My attention was attracted to the spot by a scuffle, which took place between a Magpie and a pair of Kingbirds; and when I started to examine the nest, I was in honest doubt whether it might not belong to the Kingbirds. The foundation was of mud, but this came near constituting the outside of the nest instead of the inside. The action of the wind upon the willows had compressed the mud bowl to a boat-shaped receptacle wherein lay five brown beauties, unmistakable Magpies’ eggs. There was a copious lining of rootlets, and a light half-cover of thorn twigs; but the whole structure was not over a foot in diameter and scarcely that in depth.

Magpies, like Blue Jays, are discreetly quiet in nesting time, and especially so if they have attempted to nest in the vicinity of a farmhouse. When driven to the hills by persecution they accept any shelter, and will nest in greasewood, sage-brush, or even on the ground. Arbors of clematis (_clematis ligusticifolia_) offer occasional concealment, but thornapples (_Cratægus columbianum_, etc.) afford the safest retreat. A Magpie snugly ensconced in a thornapple fortress may well bid defiance to any retributive agency short of man. Among several scores of nests I never saw one in a pine tree in the Yakima country, yet these are freely utilized in Chelan, Okanogan, and Spokane Counties. Indeed, in these latter localities there is a suspicion of dawning preference for the tree-tops and difficult climbs. On the Columbia River I once found a family of Magpies occupying the basement of a huge Osprey’s nest, and had reason to believe that the thrifty pies made efficient, if unwelcome, janitors.

Young Magpies are unsightly when hatched,—“worse than naked,” and repulsive to a degree equaled only by young Cormorants. Hideous as they unquestionably are, the devoted parents declare them angels, and are ready to back their opinions with most raucous vociferations. With the possible exception of Herons, who are plebes anyhow, Magpies are the most abusive and profane of birds. When a nest of young birds is threatened, they not only express such reasonable anxiety as any parent might feel, but they denounce, upbraid, anathematize, and vilify the intruder, and decry his lineage from Adam down. They show the ingenuity of Orientals in inventing opprobrious epithets, and when these run dry, they fall to tearing at the leaves, the twigs, the branches, or even light on the ground and rip up the soil with their beaks, in the mad extremity of their rage.

A pair with whom I experimented near Wallula rather fell into the humor of the thing. The Magpie is ever a wag, and these must have known that repeated visits could mean no harm. Nevertheless, as often as I rattled the nest from my favorite perch on the willow tree, the old pies opened fresh vials of wrath and emptied their contents upon my devoted head. When mere utterance became inadequate, the male bird fell to hewing at the end of a broken branch in most eloquent indignation. He wore this down four inches in the course of my three visits. Once, when my attention was diverted, he took a sly crack at my outstretched fingers, which were hastily withdrawn; and, believe me, we both laughed.

The Black-billed Magpie winters practically thruout its breeding range, but it also indulges in irregular migratory movements, which in Washington take the form of excursions to the coast. While never common on Puget Sound, they are not unlikely to occur anywhere here in the fall of the year, and are almost certain to be found somewhere about the southern prairies. They return early in spring by way of the major passes, and are not again seen within the heavily timbered areas during the breeding season. Mr. D. E. Brown, then of Glacier, on the north fork of the Nooksack River, records under date of March 4, 1905, the appearance of several bands of Magpies passing eastward at a considerable height, perhaps something between three and five thousand feet. He says they were unrecognizable until glasses were trained on them, and he thinks he must have seen at least fifty birds, with chances for many more to have passed unobserved.

East or west the Magpie becomes a pensioner of the slaughter house in winter, and his fondness for meat has often proved his undoing in the cattle country. As a scavenger his services are not inconsiderable. The only trouble is, as has been said, that he sometimes kills his own meat.

Volumes could be written of the Magpie as a pet. He is a brainy chap as well as a wag, and infinitely more interesting than a stupid parrot. Mischief is his special forte: the untying of shoe-strings, the investigation of cavities, the secreting of spoons, and the aimless abstraction of gold teeth are his unending delight. Once when the writer was shelling seed peas in the garden, a spoiled “Jackity” assayed to fill his (the man’s) ears with these innocent pellets; and when he discovered a rent in the knee of the man’s trousers, he fairly chortled, “Well; I see myself busy for a week filling _that_ hole!”

Cage life is irksome for bird or beast; but, if we must be amused, and, above all, if we feel called upon to pass adverse judgment upon this gifted bundle of contradictions, as he exists in a state of nature, let our harshest sentence be sociable confinement with occasional freedom on parole. A bird in the cage is worth two in the obituary columns.

No. 8. CALIFORNIA JAY.

A. O. U. No. 481. Aphelocoma californica (Vigors).

Description.—_Adults_: In general blue, changing to brownish gray on back (scapulars and interscapulars), whitening variously on underparts; crown, hind neck and sides of neck dull cobalt blue, nearly uniform; wings, tail, and upper tail-coverts dull azure blue; cheeks and auriculars cobalt blue and dusky; chin, throat, and chest, centrally, white, the last-named with admixture of blue in streaks, and passing into the clear blue of its sides; breast sordid gray, passing into dull white of remaining underparts; shorter under tail-coverts pure white, the longer ones tinged with pale blue; bill and feet black; iris brown. In _young birds_ the blue of adults is supplanted by mouse-gray on head and lower neck, rump, etc., save that crown is tinged with blue; the gray of back is of a deeper shade; the underparts are white, save for light brownish wash across breast and sides. Length of adult males 11.50-12.25; wing 5.00 (127); tail 5.60 (143); bill 1.00 (25.4); tarsus 1.60 (41). Females slightly smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue coloration without crest; whitish underparts.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a bed of small twigs without mud and heavily lined with fine dead grass; 8 inches across outside by 3½ in depth—thus much smaller and lighter than that of the Steller Jay—placed at moderate elevation in tree or bush in thicket near water. _Eggs_: 3-6, usually 4 or 5, deep green of varying shades, spotted with reddish browns. Av. size, 1.11 × .82 (28.2 × 20.8). _Season_: first week in May; one brood.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district of United States, including eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada and the Cascade Range in Oregon, north to southwestern Washington.

Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence along the banks of the Columbia west of the Cascades. Resident.

Authorities.—[“California Jay,” Johnson Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22]. [Belding, Land Birds Pac. Dist. (1890) p. 111] _Aphelocoma californica_, Lawrence, Auk, July, 1892, p. 301.

Specimens.—C.

Thru the western part of Oregon the breeding limits of the California Jay do not extend as far north as the Columbia River. I have never known of this species nesting about Portland, yet thirty miles south and southwest it is not at all uncommon. Thru the Willamette Valley, one meets this bird about as often as the Steller Jay. The habits of the two jays are much the same, yet the birds are easily distinguished by their dress, the California Jay having more resemblance to the Blue Jay of the East in color but lacking the crest, while the Steller Jay has a dark blue and blackish coat with the long crest.