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The Blue Jay: Master of All He Surveys by Kathy Root Pitts; sources: Wikipedia and Cornell Lab of Ornithology ?s All about Birds website. The Blue Jay is a noisy bird. Other birds are known for their ability to peep delicately, to mourn, to crow, to gobble, to trumpet, to hoot, to sing romantic nighttime songs so sweetly that they can sooth a Chinese emperor, or to mock other sounds. Yet, the Blue Jay is recognized for his ?harsh jeer. ? He screeches. He also ?whistles and gurgles. ? Some jays imitate the call of hawks, perhaps to warn other jays. There is something though in the character of the Blue Jay that is sharp and bold. When he catches you looking at him, he glares, and you know then that you are intruding on ?his ? turf. Surveys across the United States show that the Blue Jay ?s ?turf ? might be declining in the East, but this is not for certain. In fact, Blue Jays appear to be present throughout the Eastern United States during the year. Strangely, they migrate in an irregular pattern ?some moving South one winter, North the next. Young Blue Jays migrate more than the adults. Some just stay put. It is hard for ornithologists to understand the way of the jay. The Blue Jay is a beautifully colored bird with blues ranging from lavender to almost a royal blue most of the way down its back. The blue jay has a very distinctive crest on his head and a black necklace. On his wings and his tail one finds white bars. The Blue Jay is not a picky eater. He will consume from just about any source available from plant and animal: fruits, bread, small animals, nuts, meats, seeds, and even table scraps. Blue Jays can be pushy. They like to dominate bird feeders and are sometimes hard on the nests of other birds. Blue Jays appear to mate for life, and although it is the female who sits on the nest, both parents tend their fledglings. ?Blue Jays are good survivors and have adapted well to human presence ? according to Wikipedia. Although the Blue Jay is the state bird of New York, he turns up on Mississippi lawns regularly. There was one eyeing me from my camellias just now, and judging from the way he chose to ignore me, he might even let me stay. The Blue Jay has been such an enduring part of our Mississippi naturescape, that I have included them in the novel Camp on the Wolf as a hot June, early morning wake-up call on a bizarre family vacation: Burgeoning sunlight and the balminess of warm pines blew in through my open window. Two blue jays questioned and answered each other vigorously, and one ?s shadow swooped low across the screen. I bounded to my knees, held my breath, and silently peeked at the ground just beneath my window. A female jay danced in the sandy weeds while her frantic and cobalt-colored husband screamed warnings from a thin sassafras a few yards away. A steel faucet with a green hose attached stood apart from the cabin. Shining drips worked their way down the bend in the hose, and moistened a dandelion flower beneath. As each drop was about to descend, it would flare a pinpoint shot of sunlight just to me, like a child ?s beam of excitement just before trying a tall slide. I was struck by how close the window was to the ground, and how close the wilderness seemed. The girl jay looked at me without concern, while the male cried out once more and bounded to a higher limb. He shook the delicate branches and set a hundred mitten shaped leaves to fluttering. The female eyed me once more and joined her partner, then they both flew in the direction of the river.