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The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters

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Tag Archives: blue jays

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Wednesday May 01, 2013

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

A bluejay imitates a titmouse, blaring the first note of its call, and drops down to drink from the sky-blue trickle in the ditch.

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Tagged blue jays, stream, tufted titmouse

May·01

Friday November 09, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

A breeze rustles through dry leaves as loudly as a squirrel, the squirrels as loudly as deer. A blue jay’s call sounds strangely inverted.

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Tagged blue jays, gray squirrel, wind

Nov·09

Saturday September 29, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

From up behind my parents’ house, some vaguely melodic notes: a blue jay? Or my father whistling as he hangs out the laundry?

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Tagged blue jays, Dad

Sep·29

Friday September 07, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

Fog from the valley spills over the ridgetop and advances on the porch. The jays start calling, unable to see each other in adjacent trees.

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Tagged blue jays, fog

Sep·07

Friday August 31, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

Blue jays yelling in the treetops. Wind speed is less than three knots, but still there’s a steady shower of yellow walnut leaves.

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Tagged black walnut, blue jays

Aug·31

Saturday October 29, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

13

A blue jay lands on a snow-laden branch and the branch breaks. An early snowstorm is like a too-hard eraser that tears holes in the page.

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Tagged blue jays, snow, snowstorm

Oct·29

Monday October 17, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

The spicy smell of moldering leaves. On the barn roof, the shadow of a blue jay lands on the shadow of a limb.

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Tagged barn, blue jays

Oct·17

Saturday September 24, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

5

Rusty things: the wail of a cat in heat, a squirrel’s slow scold, the cry of a jay, and the black cherry leaves fading to a coppery red.

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Tagged black cherry, blue jays, cats, gray squirrel

Sep·24

Friday September 02, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

A racket of jays in the crown of an oak, calling and making excited rattling sounds in their throats, as if cheering on the ripening acorns.

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Tagged blue jays, oaks

Sep·02

Saturday February 12, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

Flurries. The chittering call of a Cooper’s hawk; the small birds continue feeding. A strangled cry. Finally, the jay calls like a jay.

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Tagged blue jays, snow

Feb·12

Sunday February 06, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

There must be open water in the ditch: jay- and sparrow-shaped silhouettes are going up and down the dogwood’s laddered branches.

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Tagged blue jays, juncos, silky dogwood, tree sparrow, white-throated sparrow

Feb·06

Saturday January 29, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

7

It’s snowing again. A blue jay keeps returning to the same high limb to eat snow, as if it can’t find that exact flavor anywhere else.

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Tagged blue jays, snow

Jan·29

Friday December 31, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

8

From over the ridge, a patrolman’s amplified voice, his words unintelligible. A blue jay does his best impression of a red-tailed hawk.

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Tagged blue jays, I-99, police

Dec·31

Monday November 08, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

Bright and cold. A blue jay practices its red-tailed hawk scream at the top of a scarlet oak, half the leaves still there and gleaming.

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Tagged blue jays, oaks

Nov·08

Monday October 18, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

Widely scattered drops of rain—a rustle twice as loud as it would’ve been a month ago. Blue jays yell back and forth about some new find.

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Tagged blue jays, rain

Oct·18

Wednesday September 29, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

The first holes have appeared in the forest wall, blue sky above the ridgeline leaking through. A dozen silent jays skim the treetops.

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Tagged blue jays

Sep·29

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On this date

  • May 18, 2012
    The groundhog emerges from her sun-flooded burrow beside the porch and whistles in alarm. The shadow of a tiger swallowtail crosses my legs.
  • May 18, 2011
    A light drizzle. The one green leaf at the end of a branch on the otherwise dead cherry shakes itself dry and turns back into a hummingbird.
  • May 18, 2010
    Hard rain forces the phoebes to dive into the weeds in search of prey, returning drenched to their dry and querulous brood under the eaves.
  • May 18, 2009
    Half a degree above freezing at sunrise, and the sky is as clear as it gets. A towhee sings a backwards version of its song.
  • May 18, 2008
    A black-and-white warbler's two-syllable whisper; drumroll from a Good God bird. The clock is blinking—what time is it? The patter of rain.

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New Year's 2011 self-portrait on the porch
on the porch, 1/1/2011
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