Dear Nestling Bluebirds

Please don't fledge today
I see you peeking, stretching
Your parents coaxing

But hear the thunder
See the dark clouds, feel the wind
Rain will arrive soon

Stay low in your nest
Tomorrow will be sunny
Wait for the Yayas

We want to cheer you
To see your breathless first flight
And bring you courage

It's our tradition
You know, to gather when we
Know a fledge is due

It's a sacred time
A gift of the universe
Observing a fledge

May you please allow
Yourselves a full day to find
Safety by nightfall

~dkm 326/365

At the Feeders

Fierce competition.
New birds: bluebirds, finches, cards.
Last fledglings of year.
                             
~dkm 15/365

May No Cowbird Lay an Egg in Your Nest . . .

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars. 

-Walt Whitman, poet (31 May 1819-1892) 

A second bluebird clutch is in the making! So it's come full circle. The first brood has fledged and gone, and the parents are starting over. I never tire of nest watching, but I imagine it gets old reading about it, so after one last post about the Family Blue that stole my affections this year, I promise I'll find some new wonders to ponder.

For almost a month, I've enjoyed watching the gray-backed, speckle-breasted, blue-tailed fledgelings on the gutter, bannister, feeder, and bath—more often than not, in attendance by their father, occasionally by their mother—usually begging to be fed— mostly being refused— but shown by example how to feed themselves. Good parenting. Gradually, I saw less and less of the fledglings as they gained independence.

Then one day, about three weeks after leaving the nest, they flew off into the woods and were gone for good—but not without holding a unique family pow-wow that I was lucky enough to observe. What to make of what I saw, I can only guess.

What I saw:
On May 22nd, the two remaining speckled youngsters flew to the roof of their natal house after not having returned to it since the day of their April 30th fledge, at least not that I had seen. With great pomp, they strutted around on the roof, long enough for me to wonder what they were doing. When one of them crawled down to poke its head into the doorway, both parents swooped in immediately, as if to express displeasure at this development. The mother covered the entrance hole with her body and wings while the father flitted around in the branch that hangs directly in front of the house. The youngsters went back to the top of the roof and stayed there. The father kept up his fluttering while the mother maintained her spread-winged position covering the doorway. After a couple minutes of this unusual behavior, both fledglings took off into the woods. The father stilled, the mother relaxed her posture, and eventually they too flew away together. This happened over a week ago, and I've not seen the young bluebirds since.

What I wonder, in retrospect:
Am I conjecturing too much to think the parents were telling their young they dare not return to the house, and that it was time for them to make their own way in the world?  I'd like to think it was something of a farewell ceremony.

A few days later, during my regular hour of long-sitting, I observed this:
The father flew to the nesting house again and again, entering and leaving and perching on the low hanging branch in front of the doorway.  He sometimes had a piece of grass in his beak when he entered, but not always. I would have thought he was building a new nest for the next brood (we had cleared out the old nest), but I've read that only the female builds the nest while the male watches and wards off competitors. Was he an evolved male bluebird, intending to help his mate with the work? I doubt it. While I was still watching, she came to investigate the box, going in and out a few times without any grass in her beak. Then he returned dangling a long piece of grass from his beak and simply perched on the branch, still watching her go in and out. Eventually she flew away. He dropped the grass and flew after her.

What I think it meant:
I'm no ornithologist, but I'm pretty sure I was witness to that moment of agreement between the two that the place he had selected met with her approval. He had laid a few blades of grass to prove his worthiness, lured her to inspect his handiwork, then hung around with that long floppy grass dangling from his beak as if to make sure she knew he was the guy. Because once she gave her consent and flew off, he dropped that grass like a hot potato to follow her. It was clear he had things on his mind that had naught to do with anymore nest construction. This I think because for the next few days I heard his plaintive mating call. Chew-chu-chu-chu, all day long.

Then on May 28th, she alone began bringing grass to the house at a rapid-fire pace, and he went silent. For two days he sat on the low branch watching her work. I did see him go after a passing cardinal, a blue jay, and several squirrels with his famous flapping and clicking, but I don't think any of them were interested in his nesting box. Mostly his behavior appeared to be justification for his idleness, or displays of bravery to impress his hard working mate. Still, let me not be too hard on him, because I know from last nestwatch, he'll make up for it when he begins to feed the nestlings, and later protects and trains the fledglings to independence. It actually appears to be a fairly equitable division of labor. Efficient and logical, as are most things in nature.

Quiet for the time being

But after those two days of high energy nest building on her part and protecting on his, we've now had relative quiet for the last two days. They both go in and out of the house occasionally, but mostly she's nowhere to be seen and he's hanging around the nearby branches. Looks like waiting to me—for egg laying time. I did see him feed her today on a branch, after which she flew off and he went back to his post. I don't think she has laid any eggs yet, but time will tell.

One thing I'm keeping my eye on.  I've heard a cowbird in the vicinity and saw one perched on a favorite branch of Mr. Blue's today. Here's hoping no cowbird eggs get deposited in the bluebird nest!  I'll keep watching and counting days, as in last nestwatch, but I plan, assuming no cowbird mishap, to go back to blogging about other surprises in the yard until it's time for the next bluebird fledge. I intend not to miss it this time.  dkm

Bluebird Nestwatch 2016, Day 40

Bluebirds are in the house, the result of courtship behavior reported in last post. So I begin a formal daily watch of the new green bluebird house on the loblolly pine trunk in the backyard. New last year, that is, but nobody nested in it, presumably due to the squirrel that sat on the roof all the time, twirling and nibbling an acorn in its paws, like it thought Moe Miller installed a well-supported shelf on the tree just for him—or her.

But this year—oh lovely this—the bluebirds, early nesters that they are, beat him to it. Not to be trifled with, Mr. Blue makes a loud clicking sound and dive bombs any squirrel that comes near. Mild mannered bluebirds, come to find out, are as fiercely protective as any species when threatened, but otherwise are more secretive in their nesting habits than the gregarious housewrens of years past.  While Mr. Housewren sings his bubbly heart out from a nearby perch throughout the nesting cycle,  Mr. Blue sings his quiet murmury song only during courtship. Then once he and his mate settle on their home of choice, they get to work building their nest, and he stops singing. Between the bluebirds' quiet ways and my pre-occupation with other activities, I almost forgot about them this year, until I noticed, mid-March, a few silent comings and goings to and from the new house with small pieces of nesting material in their beaks—mostly moss, I think.

By now she is definitely sitting on eggs, which must be nearing hatch date, considering he's been protecting the house for days, quietly hanging around on nearby perches, bringing her sustenance, or scaring off squirrels. She occasionally comes to the doorway for longing looks into the world and flies out for short periods, but mostly I see only him. One of his favorite perches is the basketball backboard.

Notice the fallen cherry blossoms, too.  Gorgeous this year. 

Not exactly sure where in the chronology of the nest they are. I know from past watches, bluebirds require about two weeks from laying date to hatching date---and about two more weeks to fledge date.  What I don't know is how long from courtship to egg day. Since I was lucky enough to witness their polite mating behavior on Feb 23, which I'll call Day 1, I should be able to count backwards from the eventual fledge day to learn the answer to that question. I could find out online, no doubt, but it's ever so much more fun to discover it via my own daily observations.  I'm 39 days late to the party, but I begin the watch today. I'll report back. dkm

Blue Boy

Joie de vivre! What a thing to witness, the courtship of the bluebirds in the cherry tree. His sweet and repeated chewww, chu, chu, chu calls me to window from desk in The Aerie. Thanks to his blue blue back on bare bare limbs, it takes only seconds to find them. Her grayness without him would have forced a longer search.

He sidles up to her on the branch. She demures and scoots further out. He scoots toward her again. She flies away. He follows her into the woods. I return to my desk. All morning long I hear his plaintive chewwww, chu, chu, chu. It's a rainy day. Poor boy. He's so painfully obvious. dkm

Taken another year, after the leaves were out, but you get the idea

Bluebird Nestwatch: Day 15

Question of the week:  Which day will be fledge day?  Smithsonian Birds of North America, Roger Tory Peterson, and Backyard Bird Lover's Guide all say that once hatched, bluebird nestlings stay in the nest for 15-20 days.  North Americn Bluebird Society says 17-18 days.  So today, on Day #15 @ 9:05 a.m. I begin my all-morning observations in hopes of witnessing the moment of fledge one day this week.

Armed with a tiny digital camera, I take my usual post, about 20 yards from the nest box, seated on the swing built by my younger brother, Jim, situated next to the camellia walkway named after my younger sister, Sal.  Around my neck are binoculars that were a gift from my older brother, Dan.  We are all here in spirit, rooting for the Eastern Bluebirds for reasons more sentimental than I care to elaborate in a public blogpost.  I anticipate an exhilarating week of bluebird watching.

Every time I look up from my writing, even on this day following the tumultuous world events reported in the morning news, I see one or the other of the parent bluebirds entering or leaving the nest, if not perching nearby.  The death of Osama bin Laden means not a whit to Sir & Madam Bluebird.

What I love most about nature is that it carries on with its work despite the war and disease and disaster that befalls the world, despite good things and bad, despite human attempts to manipulate things.  The will and drive of every living species to regenerate its own kind is a power that can not be stifled.  Flowers bloom.  Eggs hatch.  Seeds sprout.  Babies are born.  They filter out the sorrows, the fears, the anxieties.  They restore the calm, the peace, the grace.

On day 15 of this nestwatch, I am nearly overcome by the beauty and wonder of these bluebirds bringing food to their young, removing fecal sacs from their nest, and perching together on their low dogwood branch of choice amid the tumultuous clutter of the world around them, about which they know nothing.  And me, with an exhausted camera battery.  Not a bad thing, though.  The better to receive the grace.  dkm

p.s. Now inside, as I enter this post, the loud clamor of young bird chatter calls me to the window of my upstairs study, The Aerie.  I look down on the gutter of the porch roof below to see a red mother housefinch and three brand new fledglings, still brown, still fluffing their feathers, just fledged, I'm sure of it, from their nest in the gutter. All four are lined up on the gutter.  Cute, cute, cute.  The three smaller brown ones have fluffy heads.  Their body feathers are in disarray.  The one next to the mother opens its mouth wide in her direction.  She puts a morsel in its mouth and flies off.  The three small fluffy ones stay lined up together on the gutter, silenced.  They watch her go, looking clumsy and forlorn.  But still, they wait.  Be still my heart.  And still, my camera is dead.

Bluebird Update . .

They've hatched!  I know because I opened the box to look inside, when I was sure both parents were gone.  I think it happened Sunday, April 17 (my grandson's third birthday :-).   For two weeks, Sir Bluebird has been ever watchful of his home, perching at various places around the yard while Madam sits on the eggs.  She peeks out of the house occasionally, leaving only for short periods---to take a break?  Find food?  Go potty?  All of the above?  She never stays gone long.   Yesterday, Sir began entering the house for the first time---briefly and often, leading me to suspect he had new mouths to feed.

Too bad photography is not in my skillset.  This is the best I could do with Sir on his most frequent perch, the dying dogwood near the nest.

According to the North American Bluebird Society it is okay to peek in the nest while they are still young, so I did.  I waited until Madam flew out and away, and Sir was nowhere to be seen.  Bingo! A lumpy ball of gray fluff in the deep of the nest, with one wobbly wide open mouth emerging from the fluff---BIG mouth, bright yellow rim of beak and inside lining.  Camera couldn't see inside, but I could. And such a beautiful nest.  Notice the green moss from the yard.

Now counting days to make sure I get to see them fledge.  NABS says the eggs incubate for 13-14 days, and once hatched, the nestlings stay in the nest 17-18 days.  By my calculations, that makes fledge day fall on May 4 or 5.  I will begin my all-morning watches on May 1st, to be sure.  The other three fledges  I've observed since beginning this blog (brown headed nuthatches and house wrens) have all happened between 10:00 and 11:00 a.m.  Clearing my calendar now, dear reader. dkm

Bluebirds in the House

It's the height of spring in Atlanta.  Every day is flooded with extraordinary beauty about which to write.   From the early Yoshino cherry blossoms falling like snow on every warm breeze, through the daffodils and grape hyacinths, the magniflora camellias, the yellow carolina jasmine and the intoxicating starburst blooms of the evergreen clematis, to the extravagant bursting forth of the pink and white azaleas and flowering dogwoods the city over.  It's an intimidating state of affairs for an amateur nature writer.

That's not even to mention the ubiquitous mating behavior of every species of returning bird.  And the birdsong, my god, the birdsong.  The most joyful of all, for me, is that bluebirds are nesting again in the copper-roofed house.  I've taken up sentinel duty to prevent the tiny rapacious house wrens from chasing them off this year, as they have done the past two years. The wrens have not yet returned, but when they do, I'm ready for them.

The trouble with trying to capture this flood of spectacular beauty in print, aside from keeping me from writing for three weeks, is that it tends to make it sound ordinary.  There is positively nothing ordinary about spring in Atlanta.  The irony is that I'm more driven to write about the slow and the common.  An everyday kind of slow observation has the effect,  for me, of turning the ordinary into the extraordinary---like giving the voiceless a voice.  I'll just have to trust that the spring burst of Atlanta can speak for itself.

In the meantime, here's a shot of madam bluebird, speaking for herself in the azalea thicket.  Click once on the photo to see her and the azaleas more closely.  dkm

A Day Inspired

Two bluebirds came to the deck today. First an adult male, then a young fluffy one. Their wing flutter was audible through the screen of the open door as they slowed to land on the feeder bar. Ever cautious, they flew away in their characteristic dip-dip-dip pattern of flight.

I've not seen bluebirds all summer. Not since last spring, when housewrens routed them out. What a relief to know they found a new nesting site. May the fledgling and its siblings have enough time to grow before it gets cold.

The visit imparted more gladness than I knew to expect of a few seconds. It was enough for a day. dkm

Heartbreak Times Infinity

My grief for the family bluebird, as intense as it is, pales in comparison to that of the heartbreak generated by the news this week of the oil spill in the gulf of Mexico off the coast of Louisiana. Oil spill. It is nothing of the kind. It is an unchecked flow of crude oil from a drilled well in the floor of the ocean that flows yet---and is expected to go on flowing for months---while "the experts" search for and argue about ways to contain it.

I shudder to consider the long term damage to the ecosystem caused by the greed and short term thinking of all humanity. As devastating as this will turn out to be for the economy of the area and for the country in its ripple effect, at least the human population is resourceful enough to gain alternative ways of life, however altered. But the birds and the fish---my god---the birds and the fish---and every species of plant and animal that will experience long term horror and death without hope as a result of this disaster is a consideration that shakes me to the core.

But aside from increasing my donation to the Audubon Society, and encouraging others to do the same to environmental organizations of their choice, I only watch and despair for the creatures of the earth who are helpless against such force of human destruction, and for a society that has sprawled unchecked to a point that it would act in its own disinterest---indeed, at its own peril. I can make no sense of it. dkm

Surprise of Surprises

Never EVER did I imagine that I, daughter of the chickadee-loving mother of the century, would shoo a Carolina chickadee from a birdhouse in my backyard. But shoo I did, and with vehemence, last Saturday when I heard and saw some chickadees storming the same house my bluebirds have been frequenting.

I was pulling ivy from around the Madame Moullieres on the opposite side of the yard when "there arose such a clatter" I was arrested from my work to see three chickadees chattering and fluttering around the house.

What they were doing, I haven't the faintest, for surely the bluebirds have already claimed that house. Was Ms. Blue inside? Were they trying to scare her off? I can't say, but I surprised myself as much as the chickadees, running like a madwoman at the house, waving my arms, shouting "Shoo! Shoo! You house thieves you!"

They left and I saw neither chickadee nor bluebird the rest of the day. Nor did I see any sign of them through the next three rainy days. I worried that my bluebirds had been run off.

But good news. The bluebirds are back. On Wednesday, another beautiful day, I saw them many times in and out of the house, and perching nearby. Yesterday, a rainy day, I saw him at the feeder and in the dogwood near his house. And today I saw her at the feeder several times. She looks fatter than before. Is she with egg? dkm

Poised in Blue

The bluebird pair perseveres. Now I see the two often. In the trees. At the feeder. Flying off into sky. Perched on or near the copper-roofed house on the post in the back right corner of the yard. Today he sits long and still on the Confederate Jasmine trellis a few feet from his house of choice. He is puffy and fat, I think to keep warm on this chilly but sunny morning. He doesn't sing from his trellis perch. He only sits. She pokes her head out of the entrance to the house and holds her pose, too. Are they only staking their claim on the house, in preparation for what is to come? Or are they further along than that? Will keep watching. I can't imagine that she is already sitting on eggs---as I've not seen any carrying in of nesting grass---unless they're using last year's nuthatch nest.

Nor have I seen any flirtatious mating behaviors. They don't follow each other around the yard. I only ever see one or the other at a time---easy to identify by their color difference. Her head and back feathers are a subtle gray with a few blue feathers in her tail, rusty breast and buff belly. His back feathers, far from subtle, are deep sky blue that brighten in flight. His rusty breast is less dull than hers, same buff belly. Round black eye.

Imagine a small bird of blue where the hawk is sitting in top photo of last post, and you can see what I saw today. dkm

"The bluebird carries the sky on his back."

-Henry David Thoreau

Hard Dilemma

Until last year I had not seen bluebirds in the backyard. Have they just come to this area, or has my new practice of paying close attention revealed what has been here all along? Don't know the answer to that, but, as I wanted to learn more about attracting them, I sent for a free book online about bluebirding.

I learned more than I wanted to know from Bluebird Bob, namely that if you don't have the heart to trap and kill an English house sparrow, you should never install a bluebird box. Also that house wrens are a serious problem, and one should remove their early nesting sticks to prevent their setting up housekeeping in areas where bluebirds nest.

This is a classic case of being happier with less knowledge. NOW what do I do? Fortunately we don't have English sparrows here, at least I've not identified them, but what about the intense pleasure I got from observing and here chronicling my house wren families last spring from first nesting stick in April to last fledge in July?

True, I did observe the tiny bubbling but feisty house wren drive away a male bluebird twice his size. But also true, I doubt that I could ever interfere with the natural nesting habits of any bird in my yard. In defense of myself I put up the bird houses to attract wrens, nuthatches, titmice, and chickadees---never intending to attract bluebirds b/c I didn't know they were around. Does my prior ignorance relieve me of the present responsibility of preventing house wren nests? For more information, google Bluebird Bob.

Today my skybacked bluebird with the rusty breast is in and out of the box from which he was driven last summer. Here's hoping his earlier attempt at the same house this year will bring him triumph. Will see how the drama plays out when the house wrens begin nesting in April. dkm

No Crying They Yet Make

Question of the day: Are they hatched yet? By the day's count methinks they must be, but the adult that can only be Mama Housewren still enters the house and stays for long periods, maybe ten minutes, as if sitting on eggs. Need x-ray vision into house or ornithology degree to know for sure. She also flies out and stays gone for about 5 minutes at a time. Just saw her return with a morsel of some kind in her beak, entered with it and stayed inside, leading me to believe she must be feeding new hatchlings. Observed same scenario several times during today's hour. Can't yet hear their tiny cries though. Could she be bringing her own food, while still keeping eggs warm? More likely, they are hatched and too tiny to cry, yet featherless enough to need her warm cover. Time will tell.

Mr. Housewren, while not visiting the house, seems more present today than he has been so far. He flits from branch to nearby dogwood branch, shaking out his bubbly song. Has he given up on attracting her to house #2? Today he stays nearer house #1---sounding like he's biding his time---unlike yesterday when he was consumed with performing his aria atop the pole of the abandoned nuthatch house (#2).

New guess based on today's attention: he has been unsuccessful in attracting her to 2nd house b/c she's not ready to leave her first family. So he waits. Right or wrong, I'm peeved at him for chasing Saturday's bluebird from the house he only hoped for. Were it not for greedy feisty little housewren, might I be watching bluebirds build a nest in empty nuthatch house right now? dkm