I love reader feedback, especially when it involves people’s own observations, experiences, or appreciation of birds or nature in general. Some columns generate more interest than others, and I never know which ones will do so. I was surprised, therefore, at the response I got about the gray, or Canada, jay.

I’ve received two e-mails and one phone call from people interested in this bird. All three wanted to share their experiences with this “camp robber.”

Those of you who are not familiar with the bird should know that its tame, confiding nature has endeared it to people for decades. It is a bird of the boreal forests of the United States and Canada, familiar to anyone who spends time in the woods.

It will boldly enter cabins and tents, alight on canoes, and even hitch rides on people’s shoulders to obtain food scraps or handouts.

From this familiarity arose a bit of folklore that embraces the idea of reincarnation, which readers have been so gracious to share with me. Their stories also introduced me to another of the jay’s nicknames: “gorbie.”

Mr. Gary MacDougal of Lamoine was kind enough to give me permission to reprint his story, which took place when loggers used horses and oxen to haul wood:

“One day, I came upon a French Canadian woodcutter having his lunch. He had built a small fire to boil water for his tea, and his open lunch pail sat on a nearby stump. While we were trying to overcome the language barrier, a gorbie fluttered down and began to peck at the man’s sandwich. Although the logger didn’t seem to mind this intrusion, I shooed the bird away. But the man waved me off, and allowed the gorbie to continue his raid.

“Later, over coffee at camp, the foreman explained that his men believed gorbies were reincarnated woodsmen, and that there were many stories of the birds leading lost men out of the woods. So, he said, the loggers felt protective toward them.

“A few days later, I experienced another example of this. Early in the morning, another hunter and a few loggers and I were trudging in the snow from the bunkhouse to the mess hall for breakfast. I noticed that a couple of gorbies were pecking at the carcasses of two deer in the bed of our pickup, so I grabbed a broom to chase them away. Immediately, the loggers yelled at me – in French, but their meaning was VERY clear that I was NOT to chase or harm the birds in any way.

“Their superstition is even more amazing when one realizes that the men – like myself – were Catholics, and Catholicism does not encompass belief in reincarnation. In fact, some of them were quite devout, and it wasn’t unusual to hear one of the rugged, rough-cut workmen praying the Rosary in camp!”

I became very intrigued by Mr. MacDougal’s story; in addition, another reader made reference to gorbies as reincarnated woodsmen, so I just had to check it out. There was one place I knew I could turn to for answers: the Maine Folklife Center at the University of Maine in Orono.

Archivist Pamela Dean was kind enough to provide me with a wealth of material, which also alluded to Canada jays as “gorbies” and as reincarnated woodsmen.

In particular, one story appeared frequently about a cruel logging camp foreman. There are many variations of the tale, but in all of them the foreman, after catching a gorbie and pulling its feathers out, finds himself completely hairless upon waking the next morning. Fitting punishment for mistreating such a revered bird? That’s what the storytellers say.

The gray jay still holds a special place in people’s hearts. Mr. MacDougal’s words echo what I have heard other people reveal:

“I have come to love and appreciate gorbies – not necessarily because I believe the old tales about them, but just because they are bold, cheerful, friendly little companions when one is alone in the woods, perhaps a long way from camp.”

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com