The term "corvids" is short for the family name Corvidae, which includes the crows, jays and magpies of the world. It's a fascinating group, full of both colorful species and those with deep cultural ties to humans. There are currently 130 recognized species, scattered across 23 genera.
In Part 1, I covered the most common corvids in Idaho -- black-billed magpie, American crow and common raven. I define "commonness" by the population estimates made for each species by Partners in Flight (pif.birdconservancy.org/population-estimates-database/).
The fourth most common species is Steller's jay, with an estimated population size of 43,000 birds in Idaho. This jay has an enormous range, stretching from southern Alaska to the mountains of northern Nicaragua.
As for many species that are resident across their range, local populations can evolve to be somewhat different from one place to the next. In Steller's jay, birds in Alaska have a relatively dark head with little or no white or light blue in the face, while those in Central America have white throats, bold white eyebrows and white crescents below the eyes. There are many variations between these two extremes. Birds in Colorado, for example, look more like the Central American forms but also have conspicuous white lines on the forehead.
The bird was named after Georg Wilhelm Steller, who was the ship's naturalist on Vitus Bering's disastrous 1740-1742 expedition. Steller spent one day on Kayak Island, Alaska, collecting specimens. He was intrigued by the black-crested blue jays around there that were unlike jays from the boreal forests of the Old World.
Steller's jay has a variety of mostly raucous calls. Their most common call around here is distinctive. As with Clark's nutcracker and common ravens, you can identify a jay a half-mile away. But they are also very good mimics. We were recently camping at Ponderosa State Park where one of the local jays was giving superb osprey calls. If I had not been looking at the bird, I would have been fooled. Merlin was fooled.
Just slightly less common than Steller's jay is the Canada jay with 33,000 birds in the state. This species was called the Canada jay until 1957, when the American Ornithologists' Union (now American Ornithological Society) renamed it the gray jay. Then, in 2018, they changed it back to the Canada jay. Note that in Canada, it was the "grey" jay because the country uses the spelling "grey" to describe that color.
Their common names are more interesting. One is "camp robber," given because it has a reputation for not only grabbing potato chips off the table while we're camping but also because in the old days it was maligned for breaking into the food stashes of hunters and trappers.
But my favorite name is "whiskey jack." I long thought this was a tribute to those woodsmen who sat around the fire on a cold evening in a dark forest sipping Yukon Jack. But it's actually taken from Wiskedjak (also Wisagatcak and Wisekejack), Algonquian words for a trickster, and a mischievous, transforming spirit. What a great name!
The next corvid always brings to mind Paul Winter's beautiful record, "Prayer for the Wild Things" (1994). This record was commissioned to accompany the painting of the same name by Bev Doolittle. Paul traveled around the Northern Rockies to gain inspiration for the album where he obviously fell in love with the sound of Clark's nutcracker. Several tracks on the record have nutcrackers. This may seem like a curious choice as their vocals are far from those of the melodic hermit thrush. But they do bring to mind high mountains, thin air, blue skies and wildness.
Partners in Flight estimates there are around 16,000 nutcrackers in Idaho.
I had a group of five at Bogus Basin last week, probably a family group from this year. But they are a bit hard to come by in this part of the state, showing up on only about 8% of the eBird checklists for all of Boise County. Fortunately, their distinctive calls, which Winter liked so much, carry a long way. If there are nutcrackers around, you will probably hear them, even if you never see them.
Turning to A.C. Bent's life histories for some thoughts from the old days, I find this: "Mrs. Wheelock (1904) writes -- 'It is on the crests of the Sierra Nevada that these birds are found most abundantly. There they sun themselves on the highest peaks, frolicking noisily in the clear, bracing air. When hungry or thirsty, they dart from their lofty perches and, with wings folded, hurl themselves down the cañon with the speed of a bullet. Just as you are sure they will be dashed to pieces, their wings open with an explosive noise and the headlong flight is checked in a moment.'"
Nutcrackers have a close evolutionary connection with several species of pine that depend on nutcrackers for seed dispersal. These include whitebark, limber, Colorado piñon, single-leaf piñon and southwestern white pines. Seeds and cones of these species are especially suited to nutcracker exploitation.
The birds also have adaptations. These include a sublingual pouch, used to transport seeds for consumption and storage, and a long, sharp bill, used to open conifer cones, extract seeds and place them in caches. Finally, they have a remarkable spatial memory for relocating thousands of stored seeds.
All three of these corvids benefit from the extensive mountain forests of Idaho. This gives them some natural protection from a variety of threats that cause conservation problems for other types of species. They're all residents as well, which frees them from the multiple hazards of migration.
Nonetheless, Steller's jays and Clark's nutcrackers both show slight, but nonsignificant population declines based on Breeding Bird Survey data. Since 1966, the jays have declined by 1.23% per year and nutcrackers by 1.12%. The Canada jay shows neither an increase nor a decrease over this period. Due also to their relatively inaccessible montane habitats, none of these species is monitored especially well.
But Christmas Bird Count data tell a different story. Although there is tremendous variation from year to year, Steller's jay and Clark's nutcracker have increased slightly since 1966. Canada jays are not detected very often in winter, so the data are not very good. But what there is shows no trend.
I enjoy all sorts of birds. But I have to admit having a corvid of any kind show up always makes me pay more attention than I do to other types of species. Because of their brain power and sociality, their raucousness and vocal trickery, I always watch them a little longer and more closely. Sometimes I accidentally spill a few potato chips at the campsite. Incredibly, they are often where the dogs can't get them.