While on my morning constitutional, we heard a mild racket in the Blackberry bushes. I went on point…I cannot help myself, it is a native reflex dating back to my Wisconsin kittenhood when eating little flurry and fluffy things was part of a balanced diet.
We looked into the bushes but nothing seemed obvious. We walked around to the low side of our hill and finally Oom said she saw something. She put me on her shoulders. After a minute or two we saw a feathery form deep in the bushes near the top. A small to mid-sized bird sat among the very ripe blackberries – in the wonderful high middle of the bushes where Oom had not been able to pick because of the thorns and the deepness – and was dining on the biggest, ripest specimens. Not just pecking at and nibbling, but enveloping, sloppily munching on and swallowing large number of berries.
The little bird glutton watched us the whole time but didn’t get nervous at all as we stood within five feet, me on my person’s shoulders and us taking a picture or two. We realized as the young bacchanalian teetered that the little guy was a little drunk!
They’ve been around all year. Their parents and all kinds of cousins took up residence this spring and the kids all fledged about 4 – 6 weeks ago…well before our American Robins (who all did very well thanks to two extremely sharp parent who raised three kids right under the beaks of a bevy of Blue Jays). The Blue Jays seemed to get bored with the berries a couple weeks ago, but it was pleasing to see this fellow enjoying himself. He has a long migration ahead flying from Upper Jay south as far as Costa Rica or Columbia perhaps. Bold little guy, I wish him well, but I have a feeling he’ll be back next year to visit our bushes again.
