PHOTOGRAPHER REALIZES SHE’LL NEVER MAKE A PRO
OK folks I have
come to the realization that I will never make a professional
photographer - well let me qualify that - a professional
photographer who is always at the ready to capture “News” as it
happens. Just don’t
have the personality to put the photo first.
Let me explain.
For the past few weeks we have regularly kinked our necks by
sticking our heads as far into the bay window as possible, taking on
a rather unnatural angle to allow ourselves to watch the family of
blue jays being raised on top of the outdoor light by our front
door.
Five little ones have been hatched, coddled and fed in a cluster of twigs perched precariously on the light. It’s a perfect spot for a nest, sheltered under the eves, with a lilac nearby and a cherry tree perfectly placed for first flights. The blue jays tend to return each year, allowing us to experience the fun of watching the whole process from construction through first flight.
This year I
missed a few weeks of baby jay life due to a visit to my Mom.
Too bad because that meant they were not used to me and my
camera. They didn’t
mind people. Jack had
been keeping watch, and opening the front door to let the air flow.
Low shrubs
underneath the nest insure its safety from predators. Even so, my
first indication of how close he and the birds had become started
with an awful racked being kicked up by our feathered friends. Their
cries were loud and strident one evening.
One jay in the lilac, right by the screen door.
The other perched on our weather station right outside the
screen on the bay window.
Suddenly they
both dove into the shrubs, beaks at ready, feet extended like
talons, making enough noise to scare anyone.
The “anyone” was a neighbours cat.
They put the run to him, chasing and dive bombing him across
the lawn, down the road, and under his own deck. An hour or so later
it started again. This
time they stayed at the windows looking in and kicking up an awful
racket, until Jack armed himself with a broom and went on cat
attack. He chased the
feline away, yelling and swinging the broom, accompanied by dive
bombing jays. Haven’t
seen the darn cat since.
I, of course, stood there laughing and didn’t have my camera.
A couple of days
later came the real incident that brought home my lack of paparazzi
tendencies. I had taken a
few photos of babies in the nest but this day I noticed they were much
more exposed. The nest was
deep, so most of the time all I got was a couple of little heads.
This day I could clearly see five wee blue fuzz balls.
Camera extended and
high I walked towards the nest when suddenly one brave little soul flew.
He was probably aiming for the cherry tree, but I threw him off
course. Squawking he landed on the lawn, close to where it meets the
road. Vision a shallow ditch, freshly mowed and very exposed.
Within seconds two large crows were on the attack.
Lunch obviously in their mind.
I ran forward intent on protecting the fledgling, camera in hand.
No pictures. Tipsy
the mini-schnauzer hates crows so she was on attack.
Unfortunately, as the crows flew, she turned her attention to the
baby bird. Who I must say
had obviously been told bed time stories of fighting cockerels because
he was aggressively defending himself by leaping into the air, little
wings flapping, squawking like a wee banshee.
Mom and Dad jay
arrived so I grabbed the dog, run up and clicked her on her leash, then
ran back to help defend baby.
Mom and Dad now had three huge crows to chase off.
Chase they did. I’ve never seen such aggressive birds.
So there we were. Me
standing guard over baby jay, who was still convinced my looming hulk
had to be a bigger version of a crow.
He squawked and hopped and sort of flew across the lawn, into
long grass and eventually up into a pine tree.
Then began a dance
around the tree. Now I’m
helpless. Three crows,
hopping from branch to branch are still salivating over this potential
lunch. Baby jay keeps on
the move. Mom and Dad would
go to a branch above the crows the dive down to peck and harass them.
Eventually, one by one, the crows gave up a flew away.
I backed off to leave my adopted family to catch their breath.
About half an hour
later I checked the nest and five little heads popped up so obviously
baby had found his way home.
Talked in by his parents I’m sure.
The next day my nest check revealed all five absent.
Seems they have left the nest at the front of the house and taken
up residence in the apple tree at the back.
Its an old tree, never prune and dense.
I filled the feeder with sun flower seeds and feel confident they
will soon be making their own way in the world.
I have only one
regret. What photos I could
have got. Baby bird being
dive bombed by crows, baby bird in the grass. Mom and Dad on attack,
baby bird attacking dog - the list of “news” type photos was long.
What did I get. A
happy memory, which I have recorded here, no photos and the knowledge
that I will always put concern and caring before that perfect shot.