In the fall of 1996, we
put a birdhouse on a pole about six feet from my kitchen window. It was bought
at an auction just because I liked birdhouses.
Little did we know what joy that box would bring to us.
It was on Mother’s day the next year, while sitting at my
kitchen table that I saw the flash of sky blue wings. They fluttered around our
bird house and then landed.
His feathers were the most brilliant blue I had ever seen
and his chest was the color of peaches. As I watched him, he hopped around a
little, and then began to explore our bird house.
After a few minutes, he flew away and I went immediately
to the computer and began to search for information about birds with brilliant
blue feathers. I discovered that he was an Eastern Bluebird and they were
rarely seen. In fact, they had become almost extinct at one time. An organization called the American
Bluebird Society was doing all it could to help preserve the Eastern Bluebird
and they were coming back. The box we had was built of cypress wood,
specifically for bluebirds, and we didn’t even know it.
I wondered if that bird had just been a Mother’s Day gift
to me or if he would return. The next morning, I was back at my kitchen table,
drinking my coffee when I saw him fly in again.
He went in and out of it several times before he settled on top of it
and began to sing. My kitchen window was open and his song was like no
other I had ever heard. He didn’t chirp, his song was a warble.
Then I saw her, drawn by the sound of his love song. Her
colors were not as bright. Her feathers were a bluish gray in color but she had
that same peach colored breast. Then it was her turn to go in and out of the
box. He sat and watched her. Was she pleased with the home he had found
for them? Together they flew away.
Not
knowing the habits of the bluebird I did not know what to expect, but in the
days to follow I learned not only about bluebirds but a lesson about life and
how God had created every living creature with similar habits and instincts.
Momma and Daddy Bluebird must have decided that the
cypress house was an appropriate spot to begin new life and with in a few days
they began to bring in grass. They were diligent, focused, determined. I
watched one day as a sparrow tried to claim the box. It was all out war that
day and in the end, “my” bluebirds won.
The bluebird house has a lift up lid on it. After reading
about the bluebird, I discovered that they are not only willing to let you help
them, they welcome it. So one day I lifted the lid and peaked in.
What I saw was a teacup-size nest of soft grass, with two
little blue eggs in it. Daily, I watched, fascinated, until there were four
eggs. Then the wait began.
Momma bluebird sat on that nest with the patience that
only a mother has. Daddy bluebird did what every good, expectant dad should do.
He sat in a tree nearby, singing his love song to her and bringing her food.
One day, they both flew away, so I peaked again. Inside,
I saw four little orange beaks at the end of four very long necks. They were eagerly
waiting for lunch. Day after day the
parents came and went, working tirelessly to feed and care for their little
ones. I had read that bluebirds are partial to meal worms so I sent my husband
out to the pet store to buy some. I couldn’t go; I was babysitting for the bluebirds! I was just one
mom helping another.
About three weeks later, while sitting at my kitchen
table drinking my coffee and watching the morning activity around the bluebird house, I saw a little head peak out of
the hole. It was one of the babies. I wanted to tell the little bird to go back
inside the house where it was safe and its Momma and Daddy would feed and
protect it. The world held all kinds of dangers for her and I wanted her to be
safe.
But even if I
could have spoken her language, she would not have listened. She had a world to
explore! Within a couple of days all of them were gone, mom,
dad and babies. My bluebird box held
nothing but a smashed down pile of old grass.
I watched the sky in the days that followed their
departure. Occasionally I would get a glimpse of a blue wing, but that was all.
It was okay, the bluebirds had left their nest and were flying as God had
created them to do!
After the bluebird family left, I
wondered if I would ever see them again. Fifteen years have passed and every
year right around Mother’s Day I see the flash of blue wings and know that my
bluebirds have come home again. They are not the same birds as that first year,
but the children, grandchildren, and by now the great grandchildren!
But that is not the end of the story.
I have discovered that not only do bluebirds welcome our help, they don’t mind
if we hold their babies. Every year for
the past five years I have opened the blue bird
house, picked up a tiny baby bluebird, and placed it into the open palm of one
my grandchildren. Other grandchildren look on with awe and wonderment on their
faces as we all experience one of my life’s most precious
treasures.
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