Nuts to You

- a parable of the Bluejay -

He’s just a bird. After-all, how smart would this pesky blue jay be? What power of persuasion does he have over us? How have we become trained at his mere appearing to fetch the unsalted peanuts we buy for him on a regular basis? His song is not entertaining, his boisterous squawk could hardly be called melodious. Especially at 6 a.m. He’s not charitable, he doesn’t share with others, not even his own kind. Rather, he bullies them in a ferocious manner away from his private benefactors.

This jay is not shy, at least not anymore. Little by little, with coaxing on our part, he came to accept the gift of peanuts from our hands. At first it was a quick landing on the balcony railing, a snatch and fly. As time passed, he began to perch on one of the plastic chairs and peer in at us, often times leaving his calling card. He seemed to sense when it was the best time to prey on our newly formed habit. One he had easily drawn us into as he would fly from one balcony to another, tracking us and our strategic stash of peanuts.

His conditioning of us didn’t stop there. He would now pace back and forth in front of the sliding glass door. Impatiently demanding we interrupt, breakfast or dinner, or reading the paper, in order to meet his needs. One peanut was never enough for him. In a proven effort to keep the nuts coming, he would take one and quickly hide it under a decaying leaf in the gutter and be back for more. A training technique that worked well on his part. His boldness continued as we opened the door and he flew into the bedroom, landing on the computer desk and picking out the largest peanut in the bowl we kept there. Picking up each one and weighing it before flying off with a loud squawk - was he crowing over our complete submission to his training.

Now we ask ourselves, who is dependent upon whom.? Does he really need those peanuts. Do we have to, perhaps for the sake of our own feel-good attitude, rise to meet his demands? Has this blue jay become our personal welfare recipient? Are we responding to his cry out of a charitable heart or just because of his clever conditioning? Is his plight real or imagined?

Are we responsible for creating a dependency that, by nature, isn’t there? If we stopped his peanut supply would that be deleterious to him? Would he become just another statistic in the failed war on poverty? Or would he embrace the freedom of being a bird. Totally independent of peanut handouts from us. Would he soar to new heights, confident in his own ability to provide for himself and his family? Would he truly be the bird God intended him to be?

Someday, we may have the courage to find out. For now, we’re off to COSTCO for more peanuts.