Today, I feel accomplished.

It was a frustrating day of trial and error with this website, but I got a few things figured out on my own, and therefore, I feel like the smartest! person! alive! I have now connected all my social media accounts to the social media menu at the bottom of the home page, so it’s super cool, but also a tad creepy now that I’ve easily connected anyone in Internet Land to my social life. Oh well. It’s not like this blog is going to be much different. Honestly, this blog will probably be much more revealing than anything else currently on the internet. Shrugs.

I’m also quickly realizing how much work goes into website creating and blogs. I recognize that once I have the site looking the way I want, I won’t have to spend so much time on it, but DAMN… getting it to that initial point is work! However, considering my current state of unemployment due to the current state of the world (I lost my job because of COVID-19, like many people), I figure now is the best time to work out the kinks. It’s also the best time to establish a routine of writing, so that when I do get another job and start working again, I will hopefully be set up enough in a state of normalcy that I will continue doing this. Hopefully.

Today’s topic: Bluebirds. Specifically, Mountain Bluebirds. More specifically, MY Mountain Bluebirds.

My Bluebirds. I know this is a terrible photo. Don’t @ me.

Now, I say “my” bluebirds because I consider them to be mine. I consider myself to be an extremely amateur bird hobbyist. I don’t know very many birds, but I have a cool bird app on my phone. I look up unfamiliar birds on that or google and then I use the app’s journal to make journal entries about what I see. It’s very amateur. We only have a specific variety of birds that come to our house, so once I figured out what those were, every year it’s about the same. On rare occasions we’ll get a new one, but it’s pretty much just the same players all the time. They are still cool, I spend a shit ton of money on Costco bird seed, and I love them.

The Bluebirds, aka Bluebies, nest in our pump house every year. I know very little about bluebirds, but from what I have read, you are supposed to clean out their nesting boxes otherwise they won’t use them again. This ain’t so with this couple. They nest in our pump house roof. It’s the perfect spot for them; it provides great protection from predators and all the elements. Every Spring, the two Bluebies show up. During the day, they prepare the nest. I assume they clean out the old stuff first, and then start building a new one. They work together, and during this time they are most always seen together. When going into the pump house, they both perch, wait, and then one goes up first before the other follows. It’s fascinating to watch. At night, they both sleep under our covered porch (as seen in the photo above).

At some point, there will be eggs. Thus, only one Bluebie will sleep under the covered porch at night. And a little further on, the babies will hatch, and they will fledge. This is a very stressful time for me. One year, I found two that didn’t make it. Sad face. We also have a Neighborhood Murder Cat, but I have seen the male bluebird protect the nest from this cat and let me tell you… Mr. Blue has got his shit together (I have video evidence of this). Still stressful.

Once the little babies have fledged and start learning how to fly, I believe they go back to the nest until they are fully capable of flying and functioning on their own. Once that occurs, they leave the pump house and EVERYONE starts sleeping under the covered porch and it’s the most wondrous time of the year! Last year, we had SEVEN bluebirds sleeping under our porch at night. I was in birdie heaven. They only stick around for maybe a couple weeks, and then the babies find their own spots or fly off to start their own lives, and then it’s back to just the original two.

Sometimes I think they start prepping for another batch. Last year it seemed like they were getting ready to start over again, and then it never happened. They just hung around, would go in and out of the pump house, sleep under the porch, and then when it started getting colder… they went to wherever their winter home is. When the Bluebirds leave, the Huns arrive, and then I switch my fascination/obsession to the little groups of partridges that run around in the winter months.

For a lot of people, the “first signs of Spring” include butterflies, trees budding, bulbs blooming, allergies, and Robins. But for me, I know Spring has officially begun when the Bluebirds come home.

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