It just doesn’t quit, the bluebird thing. Anderson Cooper is going to be up here covering this. Al Gore is working up a Power Point on whether global warming is affecting these bluebirds. Nancy Grace is doing a two-hour special on “Is There A Secret Fourth Bluebird? Y’all?” Terry Gross is calling.
My children are totally disgusted with me at this point. She won’t play cards, won’t go to lunch. She’s not even knitting. I had three cups of coffee, just sitting there watching the bird hole. It has been VERY BUSY out there, people.
Here’s what’s happened today:
There was a lot of this early in the day. Hanging beak out of porthole. Such a homely little creature, this is the pushy one.
Joined, finally, by a sib.
My first good look at them. I’m seeing Hubbo’s grandfather, Big Daddy, on the left.
Dad ferociously chased a sparrow away. I’ve been reading about all the creepy stuff that can happen when sparrows steal eggs, babies die right before fledging, overcompetitive siblings . . . it was like reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting all over again. Yeecccccch! [sticks fingers in ears and makes yodeling sound]
It’s so crowded in the birdhouse that the parents don’t even go in anymore. They just land, cram a bug down whatever gaping maw is in front of them, then take off.
I cannot tell if there’s a fourth bird in there, but there are definitely three. Runts do occur in bluebirdland, and this is sort of worrisome. If you google “baby bluebirds,” you discover there are many, many people who spend many, many hours building nest boxes, rescuing runts, and doing all sorts of bluebird-loving stuff. I’d be laughed right out of BirdCon if I showed them my set-up here. This birdhouse is so utterly non-state-of-the-art that the bottom doesn’t even come off to clean it. I’m not raising my own mealworms. I suck.
But one huge mystery was solved today. My kitchen windows are covered in smudges that look like birds bonked into the glass over and over. It turns out that bluebirds have two or sometimes three sets of babies in one season. There’s another birdhole on the side of this birdhouse, and it’s clearly been inhabited. I’m thinking these current hatchlings are the second batch for these parents.
Which is why they have that utterly I’m So Over This vibe. The mom, I swear, invoked the Five-Second Rule when she dropped a worm. Just flew to the ground, picked it up, and re-served it. Didn’t even rinse it in the sink.
PS The bird names are hilarious, you guys. Totally LOL over here.