I have always had a love hate relationship with the Jay, which stems back as far as I care to remember. The call of the Jay brings a flood of memories in which I would be fishing, hunting, camping or just working around the forest in the fall. Memories like sitting in a deer stand being scolded, in which ever deer in the near county knew exactly where I was hiding. Or memories where I would be hiking into a hidden creek to fish for fall brook trout, with the smell of decaying leafs under foot, the warmth of the falls sun on my face, the color of all the trees shining into my eyes. Now, the memories of capturing these images will become part of the recall someday in my waning years. For now, the call of the Jay means its dinner time as they are heading for the feeder posted just outside my bay window. The call of the Jay speaks to me like that of the crackling of the campfire. Both are old callings of another time, which are in us all!
Image path: Flickr