No, it is not.
We were advised by our hosts that should we go to these woods early in the morning, place bread in our hands and hold them out, the scrub jays would come and eat from our extended palms.
Six-thirty a.m. arrived and I awoke. My stirring about awakened BBBH, who claims there is no six-thirty in the morning.
We prepared ourselves and presented at the appointed time; made the trip to the woods. This is what you would have beheld had you driven up on these crazy people. That is what you would have thought. And you might have been right.
As my arms tired from holding aloft a dozen bread crumbs, which got heavier and heavier with each passing moment, I declared that our "friends" had taken us on a snipe hunt. No, I was assured. Sometimes it takes a half hour to attract the birds. Half hour? Yikes! Well, you don't expect to always catch a fish instantly upon casting the bait into the water, I was told. Be patient. I was. We were. So were the birds, who, I am convinced, were in the scrub laughing their little heads off. I hope. That they laughed their heads OFF, that is.
We departed the woods, saving the bread for another excursion. Yeah, right. We went into the village and had breakfast. Now that's more like it!
The trip to the woods was not a complete loss, birdwise. We passed a flock of wild turkey, comprised of perhaps a dozen hens and a tom who was sporting his fan! Also saw two storks and assorted waterfowl.