Now the parents have begun perching on the black iron birdbath, about ten yards away and directly in front of the house, flying between the nest and the birdbath. It looks for all the world like they are coaxing the nestlings to target the frogs on the birdbath as a good landing place for their first outflying. Sir even offered a version of his quiver and fluff dance from the top of one of the frog heads.
Please, oh please, baby blues, wait until tomorrow to fledge. My camera is dead and it's supposed to rain soon. This would not be a good time to come out. Besides, I've got obligations that call me away from my perch this afternoon and evening. Here's hoping my guess is correct that the magic hour of fledging is 10:00-11:00 a.m., and that today's opportunity has passed.
I've invited my good friend Pearl, whose nickname is Bluebird, to come and watch with me tomorrow. We'll wear clothing that will blend into our surroundings and bring cameras, binoculars, quiet paperwork, and good snacks---to make a morning of it. Let tomorrow be the big day. dkm