Ludwig the Blue Jay, Part 2

Ludwig thrived, but being raised by a human instead of within a Blue Jay family meant his education was different from what a normal Blue Jay would have.

The first time he took a bath in the kitchen sink, he soaked himself so thoroughly that every flight feather became a sodden, stringy, heavy mess.

He hopped up to the edge of the sink with no problem, but when he tried to fly across the room to the table, he dropped to the floor like a rock.

I picked him up on my finger and he stayed put while preening to dry off.

Even with me patting him with paper towels, it took half an hour to restore his feathers to flying condition.

I learned that there was no way I'd qualify for state and federal permits to keep Ludwig permanently, so as soon as he started to take short flights, I started taking him outdoors to help him learn some of the skills he'd need to become independent.

I was terrified the first time I set him in the branches of a bush.

What if he flew off and I never saw him again? How would he survive? I realized that parent birds easily keep track of their fledglings and can reach them even in the highest trees, but I was a mere human.

Fortunately, fledglings also keep track of their parents.

The first week or so, Ludwig never strayed far from me.

For the first few days when I couldn't stay out with him, he'd happily come inside with me.

As he got more independent, especially after he discovered mulberries in the back of the yard and delectable fruits further afield in the neighborhood, he'd spend minutes and then hours on his own.

A family of blue jays lived somewhere near us, and whenever Ludwig found himself on their territory, the adults would chase him off, sometimes following him aways.

He quickly discovered that they were afraid of me.

Now when I was outside, he'd occasionally taunt them getting them to chase him into our yard he'd alight on my head and turn to face him as if saying my mom's bigger than your mom as their own babies grew more independent the adults grew tolerant of ludwig In the evening, or when rain was imminent, I'd call for him from the yard.

Once I noticed my neighbor staring at me, making me feel like Samantha on the TV show Bewitched, when she'd call, "'Mother! Mother!' into the bushes.

Calling, "'Ludwig! Ludwig!' seemed even more bizarre." Sometimes I couldn't wait for him and went inside.

When he was ready to come in, he'd look through our basement apartment windows until he saw us, and he'd peck at the glass to catch our attention.

By this time, he was also starting at long last to make Blue Jay vocalizations.

Now when he wanted my attention, he'd make a squawk that sounded like, MAH! which I, of course, found hilarious.