You may recall I had some words to say (or is that type?) the other day about finally having some success at photographing the couple of blue jays that have been hanging about our back garden?
No? You don’t? Really? Well refresh yourself here, okay?
Well this a.m. I’m walking through the kitchen, past the table, and I happen to steal a glance out the windows towards the back deck and what do my eyes see? Blue jay. No. Not blue jay, but blue jayS. Not one. Not two. Not even three, but four gorgeous blue jays. I freeze.
“Where the shit is my god-damn camera bag?” I think, while cocking my head to one side as if it will help conjure-up the location of my camera bag. Too late though. The blue jays had spied me and as if on cue with the cocking of my head they took off into the trees and then off into the morning sky.
I don’t get it. I didn’t think blue jays were this skittish. I thought they were pretty calm for birds. It’s rather clear I’m going to have to construct a blue jay blind and park my fat ass (‘arse’ for you folks across the pond) in it for twenty-four straight hours if I hope to have any chance in hell of getting some decent snaps of these beautiful birds.
I’m more certain than ever that Mother Nature has had a long talk with these blue jays and they are both hell-bent on just pissing me the fuck off!