But not for long. The cheery song was once again heard in the living room. Now, every time the clock sings, I check my watch. I had a Scrub Jay named Sam who lived in our California garden. He was not a pet, but in time he learned to trust me enough to land on my wrist and take peanuts from my hand.
Jays are clever and adventurous when it comes to getting food.
I also had a hummingbird feeder hanging from a grizzled old pepper tree in the garden, and one July day while I sat reading in its shade, I saw Sam dart suddenly out from the cover of a leafy ambush and seize a male Anna s Hummingbird that was drinking at the feeder. What a pitiful sound that poor creature made, and me adding to his plaintive cries as I chased after them, hollering at Sam to drop it. He flew with the little bird up to a branch in the elm and proceeded to eat it, right in front of me. I never told Joan because she would have hated Sam after that. Summer passed, Fall migration came and went, the rainy season arrived and the smog lessened noticeably.