Inviting Bluebirds of Happiness to Move In

                                                                             

Humans naturally seek happiness—some carry lucky charms or practice mystic rituals to attract it. Others find inviting blue birds to the yard does the job. Apparently, such choices aren’t unique to modern humans. For eons, world cultures have honored timid, sky-colored creatures as omens of good fortune.

Nearly 2000 years before Christ, Chinese storytellers wrote about a bluebird that delivered messages from the Queen Mother of the West, an immortal. Native American societies also celebrated these brilliantly-hued beings. Some tales associate them with the rising sun. In fact, the Navajo still sing the bluebird song as part of their winter Nightway Ceremony. European cultures, as well, included these beauties in literature involving a fairy-tale search for the bluebird of happiness.

Considering their history, it’s not surprising these pretty birds are beloved. Unfortunately, like many species, their habitat’s changing and invasive species increasingly compete for food and nesting sites. Residing on the prairie is even more difficult for this cavity dweller who seeks hollow trees or posts to set up housekeeping.

To complicate matters, the azure darts are finicky. They require nests a 100-yards distant from other hopeful parents and cleared landscape around their homestead. Healthy sparrow, sharp shinned, and Cooper’s hawk populations lurk close by, so a view increases survivability for adults and offspring. However, it makes it difficult to attract the picky rascals to nest near humans.

Despite these creatures’ suspicious natures, shrewd birders can entice them to live close enough to watch their broods mature. Visit a garden shop or online site to learn more about this species’ housing requirements. Carpenters can construct summer rentals designed specifically to attract them. Others can buy well-designed blue bird boxes.

Cedar siding offers a good structure choice. Craft a watertight roof and a floor with small drainage holes. Blue birds aren’t just harbingers of happiness. They’re tidy as well so select nesting structures with bottoms that easily open for spring cleanings.  One source suggests leaving the inside unpainted rough wood to encourage easy fledging.

To discourage rival species, build or buy nesting boxes with entry holes no larger than 1 ½ inches wide. Starlings won’t fit in that opening. To further discourage invaders, exclude external perches. Blue birds don’t need them. They’re also satisfied with a 4” x4” nesting space, which is too small for competing sparrows. Conveniently, such units fit atop fence posts.

After offering species-specific housing, further improve the environment by providing shallow pans filled with fresh water. Place savory snacks nearby. Blue birds are insect and fruit eaters so don’t offer seeds. One authority recommended chopping berries into pieces or even offering meal worms as motivators to relocate. With plenty of live bugs and wild currant available, we’ve never bought treats.

Once you convince them to move in, the fun begins. Despite their shy nature, these heralds of joy are natural entertainers. Their aerial acrobatics turn insect catching into comic entertainment.  Watch mom splash in the birdbath with her babes for twenty minutes of bliss. Observing them pop in and out of their tiny doorways as they feed young stills racing pulses and lowers human blood pressure.

It requires effort to convince  blue birds to call your yard theirs, but once they move in, you’ll see why humans from the beginning of time have invited them to live nearby and woven them into their shared stories.

Country Living Catastrophe

I was visiting with a girlfriend today about cat behavior and how despite being domesticated house pets share wild counterparts’ behaviors. This discussion retrieved a nearly forgotten memory involving two kids, a bike, a cat, and a mouse.

The adventure began on one of those sensational spring evenings when the wind doesn’t blow and the sun sinks slowly into the horizon making your system vibrate so that even though you’re tired, you aren’t ready to settle down. Just as I called the girls inside for their bath, a squall emerged from our rural driveway where our eldest was practicing riding her bike without training wheels. She’d mastered starting, stopping, and turning so I’d gone in to draw their water.

Racing outside, I found her sprawled in gravel.  Thankfully there were no broken bones, but after close investigation, I saw pebbles and dirt chunks embedded in her knees and palms. I guided her into the house where she could soak it loose in the tub, making it easier to remove. As I led one sobbing child up the steps, I spied our youngest trying to take something away from the cat. So much for hindsight, I’d think later.

I comforted tear-stained kid 1 while she trickled water over skinned appendages when I heard a shriek from child number 2. She raced into the bathroom with something dangling from her finger. She held it out to show her sis, and I observed a mouse--yes, a writhing rodent attached to her index finger.

Daughter 1 joined little sister’s howls while the mouse wriggled and contributed squeals of its own. However, it didn’t let go. At that point the cat raced in to check on the prize that he’d caught and been tormenting before our fair-haired girl intervened.

At this point, I’m scared the critter will fall into the bathtub furthering injuring daughter 1 so I guided little sis’s bleeding hand over the commode. In turn, she bangs the hitchhiker on the toilet rim. When our feline leapt to recapture his prey, I abandoned our toddler long enough to toss the cat and slam the door. Curiously, that action multiplied the volume in the bathroom, perhaps inducing the mouse to release its vise-like grip and somersault into the toilet.

Someone, and I suspect it was me, flushed the stool. I know I didn’t have a carcass when the thought of rabies flitted across my mind. Of course, my husband was at work and out of reach so I told kid 1 to keep soaking her wounds. I disinfected kid 2’s bite and comforted her as I simultaneously called the emergency room to see if we needed shots.

The good news was we didn’t. The bite victim contentedly sported a Band-Aid on her injured digit while I picked gravel from her sibling. It wasn’t painless, but the extended soak that left daughter 1 wrinkled like a prune made it easier to clean her wounds.

By the time their dad returned, sleep was the last thing on anyone’s mind. We had red badges of courage and stories to tell. The only one in the house still upset was the cat who meowed repeatedly over his lost snack.