A Surprised Bluejay.
At the back end of my store, and just outside of a window, is a box on which we mix the dough to feed the chicks. On Sunday morning when I shaved myself I took my mirror to the window so I could have a good light. Just as I finished my work I noticed an old Bluejay drop down on the box and begin eating the dough from the pan of chicken feed. As I was on the opposite side of the glass it did not see me. I looked at it for a moment and then “for fun” turned the mirror around so the glass would face the bird. It was just taking a mouthful of dough as it looked up and saw, as it supposed, another Jay with its mouthful also. It seemed greatly astonished and failed to swallow its food for some time, but soon did so, and then in Bluejay style “bowed,” as much as to say “good morning, sir.” As a matter of course the glass made the other Jay bow also, and the next salutation was “kechunk! kechunk!” I suppose that is Jay language, but I do not understand it. Then it proceeded to fill its mouth full of dough again and its shadow did the same. This seemed to anger it very much, and after giving one Bluejay war-whoop, it flew against the glass. Its astonished look at the result of its attack was laughable. The first thing it did was to retreat to the farther side of the box, and from there eye the antagonist. After gazing for some time its hunger overcome it and it took another mouthful, “as did its shadow.” The Jay stopped with full mouth, turned its head first one way then the other, and finally hopped around the glass and stood face to face with me. Our faces were not more than six inches apart, and I never expect to see a more astonished look than was in its eyes just then. But one look was enough; and after another big Jay yell it made as good time from there as a Bluejay ever made, I guess; and my dough has remained undisturbed ever since.—S. H. N., McLeanborough, Ill., in Germantown Telegraph.