Feeder Newcomers

Watching the familiar mix of birds at the feeder, I can become captivated by their routines. After a period of time, the pecking order is clearly established, so the avian interaction dynamics settle into a predictable pattern. Certain species—such as the cardinals—come at the same time each day, so I begin to anticipate their arrival. The smaller birds—chickadees, titmice, and finches—appear at random times of day, but their behaviors are usually quite repeatable, as to which ones dominate and hence how they will behave.

So I also fall into a pattern—looking forward to certain expected activities and enjoying the show. As to feeder hierarchy, in general, the larger the bird, the more likely it’ll rule. The smaller birds will quickly retreat, perching on a nearby branch, and wait until the bigger guy is done. I don’t often understand what all is going on, but as I become familiar with their routine, I increasingly pick up on subtle details. It calls for the classic birder’s technique: watch, watch, watch.

But now and then a newcomer enters the picture and the dynamics change—especially if the visitor is large. Although we have many blue jays in the area, they have yet to come to the feeder. I guess we’re fortunate, since jays are the bane of many folks who feed birds; they can hog the offerings.

I recently observed a blue jay fly to a branch just above the feeder. The other birds fluttering about for their meal must have attracted him; he was probably investigating what all the fun was about. Upon his arrival the behavior of all the small birds abruptly changed. They had been busily flying back and forth, grabbing a seed, and swooping a short distance away to chop at the nut inside. They knew that the usual bigger birds would pretty much ignore them, so they could freely continue their activity. But how about this imposing stranger? All the little eyes became locked upon the jay. They gave him plenty of space—even putting the feeder between themselves and that big blue guy, when they could.

The jay would flit to another branch—seemingly trying to figure out the action. Each time he moved, the smaller birds moved, keping their distance, giving him a wide berth. The red-bellied woodpecker, however, being about the same size as the jay, ignored the newcomer and blithely continued his meal. In time the jay flew off and the little birds immediately resumed their normal feeding habits.

It didn’t seem to me that the smaller birds showed any real fear of the jay—just respect. It’s as if they knew they wouldn’t be hurt, if they politely stayed out of the way. The jay just needed to be heeded, not to be feared. To my mind that’s one of the admirable qualities of animals: they don’t unnecessarily hurt each other, as humans often do. A human bully will sometimes harm another person or animal out of spite, just because he can. An animal harms only for a good reason.