When I woke up Saturday morning, the very first thing that registered in my sleepy brain was that I could hear a bluebird singing. It was the first time this spring, and a joyful sound. I saw him, too, perched on the birch tree in the front yard. I hustled outside and stole the tub of meal worms that I keep on hand for the chickens. I put some in a prominent feeder. The bluebird obliged and came to check out my offering. I don't know if he sampled the fare or not, but I was so happy that I had something to present him with.
Today Chris and I cleaned out the blue bird boxes.
The top nest, from last summer, was built by Bluebirds. It is made from meadow grass, and tucked into the bottom of the house we provided.
The second nest was constructed by Tree Swallows, not Bluebirds. You can tell because it is lined with feathers. Tree Swallows like Bluebird houses, and they love white feathers. I have seen them playing with feathers, dropping them in the air, then swooping down to catch it. Drop, swoop, repeat.
The boxes are now clean and ready for birds who want to have a cozy spot to raise a brood. I so hope some do!
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