The other evening my wife and I went walking up the mesa.
After maybe three-quarters of a mile, we passed a 10-foot piñon on the south side of the trail. One among thousands, true, but this one sheltered a couple of scruffy young jays. I decided they were piñon jays, because of being in the piñon, but my wife didn’t think so. The amazing thing was that the two birds inside the protective screen of branches sat perfectly still (like they were stuffed), even when we stood close enough to reach in and grab them. We circled the tree in slow motion, very close, and still the two juveniles stayed frozen, like in a diorama.
Earlier we’d seen a herd of jackrabbits take over an arroyo. It was one of those days.
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