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November 09, 2006  Trend Spotting The light snow that fell at dawn had abated but the streets were still wet underfoot. I strode deeper into the silent heart of an awakening 100 Mile House subdivision. My footsteps echoed from the surrounding houses. Although my ears were somewhat cool I removed my earmuffs to better hear any sounds. A cat meowed, a mother pushed a pram and bantered with her young child, a car idled in a driveway, all typical early morning urban sounds, but not of the kind I hoped to hear. Last evening I received word that an Eastern Bluejay was sighted on Evergreen Crescent in 100 Mile House. Though I’ve lived near the community of 100 Mile House for years and know every street in town is named after a tree, I still have no idea where Evergreen Crescent is. Perhaps, the caller suggested, I should walk around town tomorrow and listen for the Bluejay. ‘I have walked in town recently! I have listened!’ I insisted. ‘If there is one birdcall I am familiar with it’s the Eastern Bluejay.’ Perhaps though, despite my obvious defensive posturing, I needed to put myself on Evergreen Crescent, wherever it was, then I could make comment. And so today I began my search rather cursively, first winding around behind the rodeo grounds searching for a lone Snow Bunting, then cutting around the marsh to listen for Pine Grosbeaks, and finally finding myself in the deserted park. Centennial Park marks the eastern edge of town and according to my calculations would be the spot where any self-respecting Eastern Bluejay would retreat after visiting a suburban feeder. I stood for a long time near the creek and listening below the big bluff that marks the edge of town. I heard a Flicker and the call notes of House Finches but nothing resembling the ‘kee-it’ screech or ‘kling-let’ bell-like call of an Eastern Bluejay. It was obvious that no Eastern Bluejay was to be had here, so I climbed the stairway from the park to the streets of the town’s subdivision area. I turned right at the first street and strode northward listening intently. I walked and thought about trends. I was planning on writing about trends for today’s column, and one of the trends I wanted to mention was the influx of Jays into the Cariboo this fall. It began with Steller’s Jays. Almost every yard with a feeder reported one or two in recent weeks. Then reports of Eastern Bluejays trickled in. Last night’s phone call was the first I’d heard about in our area, the rest were farther north. I continued walking and noted that the first cross street I approached was named Pine, but where was this elusive Evergreen Crescent? I tried to recall all the crescent shaped streets in the subdivision. Being that the town is small and the streets turn back toward the business centre, would most streets essentially be crescents? This was getting me nowhere. I came to the next cross street; it was named Aspen. Then on the same pole as Aspen I noticed the name of the street I’d been walking along - Evergreen Crescent! Suddenly, overhead the dark shape of a Jay passed right to left. I knew what it was immediately but hoped it wasn’t a Steller’s Jay. It flew to a feeder behind a house and began hopping about on the ground. Though I was armed with binoculars I didn’t need them to recognize the big dark Jay. It wasn’t an Eastern Bluejay but its appearance confirmed the trend I’d been thinking about. I continued my walk and turned left at the next street, which turned sharply and paralleled the street that the Steller’s Jay had just over flown. Perhaps the Eastern Bluejay would materialize from the north. It didn’t. I walked a few more streets but other than a dozen Bohemian Waxwings ‘spree-‘ing high in a Poplar tree the bird world was sparsely represented. In hindsight, and for literary purposes, the Steller’s Jay I spotted should really have been the Eastern Bluejay. Its sudden appearance at just the moment I realized that I was on Evergreen Crescent was interesting, and had it been the sought-after Eastern Bluejay, it would have made for great story ending. I asked Bonnie later if this event was some aspect of Karma gone slightly askew. Obviously the command, ‘Cue the Jay!’ was given at the right time and a Jay certainly appeared but unfortunately it was not the hoped-for species. A significant coincidence, is what I think Bonnie called it. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
