a town called E.

By Eej

The Bluefeathers

It's become glaringly obvious; this is the real Mr. Bluefeathers.
The last few days I have been playing the fetch game (whistling while tossing peanuts about) and with an ease that can only have come from a lot of practise, this jay has been the single one who responds.
And by 'responds' I mean almost flying in my face, sitting down less than 3 feet away and staring at me with eyes that suggest something in between derision and opportunism. Or perhaps both.

The other ones seem uncertain what to do with me. They can't seem to link me with the peanuts and the whistling and have just resorted to fighting amongst each other and stealing the food from the smaller birds. Which apparently also works for them.

I guess all jays are smart, but some are definitely smarter than others.

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