FOR THE BIRDS: Blue jays have an attitude

Blue jays are Jekyll-and-Hyde birds with an attitude, maybe even a temper, ready to blow. I'm betting you either love 'em or hate 'em.

No one can miss their backyard arrivals. And that’s surely intentional on the jay’s part. Brilliant blue-and-white plumage and boisterous, bouncing behavior announce the 10-inch long haughty, even impudent birds.

But just in case the minions of the backyard court ignore the three-ounce king’s lawless arrival, the jay’s screaming red-shoulder-hawk imitation clears the yard of other birds. What a clever way to garner all feeders for itself. Then, relaxing in his competition-free domain, the jay lowers his crest, signaling a bird at ease.

But in breeding season, the other side of Jekyll-and-Hyde kicks in. Jays turn quiet, secretive, stealthy, perhaps nesting in your yard but concealing the site, entering from different directions and then slipping through foliage to a nest so well hidden you may never know it’s there.

This king of the backyard strikes me as markedly beautiful, a reminder of bright clear sky dashed with white clouds.

But jays bear the burden of a reputation for stealing other birds’ eggs and babies in order to feed their own offspring, providing a high-protein diet only such thievery permits. In spite of the reputation, however, a study of the contents of 292 blue jay stomachs over the course of 12 months revealed only three with evidence of egg shells. So I have to wonder, especially about a bird whose fondness for acorns is credited with the spread of oak forests after the last ice age.

Among our most intelligent birds, jays have adapted to human habitation even as we destroyed their original woodland homes. Their complex social life, tight family ties and monogamous life-time mating surely add merit to their otherwise lawless reputation. 

Blue jays’ year-round presence in area backyards can be misleading, for they do migrate — just not out of North America, and mostly not out of the eastern half of the U.S. But not all migrate; and therein lies one of the pieces to the puzzle of why some jays wear a different shade of blue. No, they’re not markedly old or markedly young. Rather, three geographic subspecies roam the U.S. The irregular migratory habits added to the crossbreeding of some subspecies account for color differences, especially in late winter. A northerner may join the local flock that chose to stay the winter.

As strong, healthy-looking bird, jays display apparent independence. When they cross open areas, they fly singly, perhaps for safety. But even in migration, flying quietly in long strings, they usually move in small groups, no more than five to 15 together, seemingly independent even in migratory masses.

In spite of the jay’s Jekyll-and-Hyde personality — or maybe because of it —  I’m thrilled to have them back in my yard. West Nile virus hit the entire Corvid bird family hard, for they have no resistance to the disease. But their populations seem to have stabilized, and I celebrate the little family that's with us now. 

Smart, sassy, boisterous and lawless, or quiet, stealthy and faithful to family — both blue jay personalities garner my affection.

You can find profiles of other common backyard birds in my book "Birds in the Yard Month by Month," readily available in bookstores and online.

Contact Sharon Sorenson on her website at birdsintheyard.com, follow local day-to-day bird activity on Facebook at SharonSorensonBirdLady or email her at chshsoren@gmail.com.