Currently I am being paid to drive around an ATV and throw peanuts at birds. Works for me.

In a few weeks, the hormones will kick in, the breeding season will get underway and things will be much more intense. But for now, I've been censusing the birds to make sure I've visited all ~65 territories. The concept of territories is very different from that of the sparrows or other migratory birds. These jays are pretty unique for North American birds in that they're extremely sedentary and keep territories year-round. An even more unusual aspect of their life history is that they're cooperative breeders, which means that instead of dispersing to begin breeding, the offspring born last year usually stick around in their parents' territory to help defend the area and raise the next year's brood. Besides having a guaranteed home, other perks of staying with the parents include the possibility of inheriting the territory, should the parents die, and improving the likelihood that genetically similar individuals (i.e., their younger siblings) will survive.

So when we drive around, what normally happens is that several jays will fly out at once and perch in the nearby foliage when they see or hear us approaching. Then all we have to do is toss them peanut bits, and while they're busy eating we write down the band combinations on their legs. Families band together in groups of 3-7, and since it's not breeding season yet, they're generally more tolerant of having the neighbors wander into their territory. That's why as many as 20 jays will arrive and squabble over the peanuts sometimes. Certain groups and individuals are a little more wary and require some coaxing to approach us, but I've managed to spot at least one bird from all the territories except one. (Then again, the other two interns finished a couple days ago, so I'm kind of behind.)

Okay, that was a fun lesson. Oh, and I bet I can now break a single peanut into more pieces than anyone who's reading this. I'm glad I've acquired this critical life skill.

Sometimes the jays can appear out of nowhere, and it's Hitchcockian creepy.

Gopher tortoise plodding away. I don't know too much about them, but recently some people at the station caught one in its mid-50s.

Prickly pear cactus looking gross and lethal. The base of the spines have stiff hairs that break off and act like splinters. The spines themselves can also be embedded in your skin. (However, Wikipedia informs me the insides can be used as conditioner. Perhaps it has some redeeming qualities after all.) I've only gotten pricked once, but that number is sure to change once I start running after nest-building birds.

Wood stork perched on a snag, sans baby in its bill. They're officially endangered, which means I'm getting to see a lot of rare birds here.

Okay, red-shouldered hawks aren't endangered at all, but this juvenile let me stare at it while it was hunting. It did some staring back of its own.

Testing Photobucket's video capabilities. Enjoy my shaky filming.

So things are going well, and if you're interested in seeing how the station looks, you can click here. Basically I'm in one long building that's stood in hurricane-battered Florida since the 1930s. Pretty impressive, and I'll take some pictures of the dorms and people later.

Okay, well, our boss is flying back from New York tomorrow, so I have to whip up ideas for an independent project and sound as if I've been engaged in activities other than sending personal emails. Take care and come visit!