I was treated to a hearty laugh this holiday season, not from a good joke or a bad pun or an amusing anecdote, no, but from the sheer joy of being alive. This tingling sensation was initiated by my Sierra Blue Jay, Huckleberry, who arrived at Happy Hour and while waiting patiently for me to find him a Beer Nut, puffed himself up to twice his normal size as if to say, “Happy Holidays, Dude!” Huck communicates to me his sheer joy of being alive, and it gives me chicken skin to see it…

It is that joyous little moment that reminds me of my good fortune to be alive at this particular point in time. In truth it strikes a chord in my heart that resounds throughout my body. It makes me want to shout, “Ain’t it great to be alive?!”

I talk to Huck like he is family, “Hey, you look great today, all fluffed out like you’re going to church or something. You should be proud that you and Emmeline raised four great kids this past summer, and they’re all doing fine. Bravo!” Then I whistle our favorite song, “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.”

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For fun, I imagine Huck talks back to me, “Well, seems you’re doin’ pretty fine yourself. I notice you have a new Lake Tahoe School pullover that looks mighty smart, and you seem to be enjoying that eggnog like its Mark Twain’s birthday or something.”

Of course I am compelled to continue the conversation, “How did you know? It is Mark Twain’s birthday, his 189th, and for that you get an extra Beer Nut, my little genius!”

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“So what do you plan to do on Mark Twain’s birthday?” He asks.

“Well, I might have a second eggnog, or better yet, I might sit down and pen Samuel a letter, thanking him for the sunshine he has brought into my life, sunshine that I was able to share in classrooms and lecture halls over the many years.”

At this point in our eyes-only conversation Huck sometimes shouts, “And, you must tell me once again what Mark Twain had to say about us jays.”

So of course I launch into The Blue Jay Yarn: “Oh, a jay’s everything a man is, he loves gossip and scandal, and he knows when he’s an ass, just as well as you do, maybe better.”

With that, Huckleberry stands on one leg, laughs, then nods his head in acknowledgement to me, before flapping his wings twice, and taking off into the wild blue yonder…

Our daily conversations are in body language mostly. I slowly flap my arms when I hear his beak tapping on the window, he puffs himself up, and I start to whistle our favorite song while hunting up a Beer Nut. Our daily conversations do vary a little, but always end up with the same refrain, “Ain’t it great to be alive?!”