As the days grow seasonably colder – finally – and become progressively shorter, my thoughts usually turn to those birds hardy enough to tolerate, and even thrive in, our northern winters.

The gray jay – also called Canada jay, “whiskey jack,” and “gorbie,” among other colloquial names – fills this role admirably. I’d been thinking a lot about this bird all autumn, for in past years I’d had a number of up-close-and-personal encounters with this cheeky panhandler, especially while camping at Kidney Pond in Baxter State Park.

For those of you who’ve been lucky (or unlucky) enough to experience this bird’s rashness, you know exactly how up-close-and-personal these encounters can get.

A favorite nature writer of mine, R.D. Lawrence, talked about the jays hitching rides on his shoulders during his tramps through the Canadian forest. Ora Willis Knight, in his 1908 book The Birds of Maine, wrote, “They are among the tamest, most imprudent and unsuspicious birds imaginable.”

This is true especially if they find they can obtain food from us. They have been known to fly into tents and cabins, and alight on canoes (and people) to inspect and steal food.

When I camped at Kidney Pond, the jays would land on the picnic table directly in front of me, or on the bench beside me, and attempt to steal my trail mix. More often than not they succeeded, not that I minded. And I had to laugh when I visited the campground’s rustic library and read the visitor’s logbook, which contained this child’s entry:

“I saw three jays and they ate out of Jaz’s and I’s hand! The skinny one is Raelle, the fat one that eats a lot is Jay, and the one that lands on your hand and knocks out the food is Jo-Jo! Please be nice to them!”

A large volume of folklore surrounds this jay, mostly dealing with the idea of reincarnation and dating back nearly 100 years. Some woodsmen thought of the jay as an embodiment of their deceased fellows. They never denied the bird food, and there are many myths about the dire consequences that would result should anyone harm the bird.

Yet, for all its brashness and boldness, the gray jay has another side to its character of which people are not aware. I was reminded of this recently when a reader wrote in to me asking about this bird.

“What has happened to all the Canada jays? Ken Durkee, of Charleston, asked. “They used to be everywhere 35 years ago. I don’t even remember when I last saw one, even in the North Country. Any ideas?”

I did have an idea. I had read the jays could be secretive and stealthy throughout much of the year. The onset of colder weather seems to trigger the bird’s more outgoing nature, as the urge to collect and store large amounts of food becomes all-important.

Gray jays don’t rely solely on human handouts (intentional or otherwise), though. They consume a wide variety of plant and animal material, even going so far as to glean the carcasses of an animal’s kill. But what makes them so adept at surviving northern winters without needing to migrate is their method of storing and preserving food: they secrete copious, sticky saliva from their enlarged salivary glands, which is used to bind food items together and fasten it to tree-bark crevices. When food becomes scarce, these strategically located “pantries,” provide a vital reserve for the birds.

Just to be sure, I checked the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s website for the population status of the gray jay; no changes have been noted, and reports submitted via the Lab’s “eBird,” – a real-time online checklist program – indicate a healthy number of sightings of the bird since August.

For more information about the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s eBirding program, visit: http://ebird.org/content/ebird/about/whatisebird.html. Anyone can register and submit sightings to eBird; it is a great way to contribute to scientific knowledge of bird populations, as well as find out where the birds are being seen.

Another great website for bird sightings is http://www.mainebirding.net/. This site also has a List-serve you can join to receive daily reports from fellow members.

BDN bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net