As I sat down to compose this post and confronted the unenviable, but necessary, business of coming up with a suitable opening sentence, the first idea that popped into my head was: "Who doesn't love Bluebirds?" Then, as is my wont, I consulted the writing of Edward Howe Forbush to see how he handled the task. I was gratified, and not altogether surprised, to see that he begins his entry on the Bluebird in Birds of Massachusetts (vol. 3, 1929) with the sentence: "Who does not welcome the beloved Bluebird and all that his coming implies?" I was even more pleased to read his lede for the entry on Bluebirds in his earlier work, Useful Birds and Their Protection (1907): "The Bluebird is perhaps the first of all birds in the affections of the rural population of New England." Most welcome affirmation of my own thoughts!
Confirmation that Forbush was on target in these assessments of widespread fondness for Sialia sialis can easily be seen in the writings of other ornithologists, as well as in the work of poets, songwriters, painters, and photographers. Their affection is manifest in the loving, often exuberant words, images, and music that Bluebirds inspire.
John James Audubon wrote of the Bluebird: Full of innocent vivacity, warbling its ever pleasing notes, and familiar as any bird can be in its natural freedom, it is one of the most agreeable of our feathered favourites. The pure azure of its mantle, and the beautiful glow of its breast, render it conspicuous, as it flits through the orchards and gardens, crosses the fields or meadows, or hops along by the road-side.
Later in the 19th century, naturalist John Burroughs was equally fulsome: When Nature made the bluebird, she wished to propitiate both the sky and the earth, so she gave him the color of one on his back and the hue of the other on his breast, and ordained that his appearance in spring should denote that the strife and war between these two elements was at an end. (p. 61)
Thoreau conveyed much the same sentiment in fewer words in the line that serves as the title of this post: the Bluebird carries the sky on his back.
In addition to their prose writings about Bluebirds, both Thoreau and Burroughs were inspired to turn their hands to poetry in praise of the lovely creatures. Poets Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost are also among those who put their reflections about Bluebirds into verse. Bluebirds feature strongly in a couple of my long-time favorite country songs: "I Heard the Bluebirds Sing," and "The Bluebirds are Singing for Me." Pre-WWII blues artist Sonny Boy Williamson had a good record in 1937 with "Bluebird Blues"--issued on Bluebird records, no less. Buffalo Springfield, the influential 1960s rock group that was the launching pad for the careers of numerous performers, had a bit of a hit with the largely allegorical song, "Bluebird," written by band member Stephen Stills. There are more.
So, to answer my own question--in a grammatically torturous way--it seems that nobody doesn't love Bluebirds.
For one reason or another I have not been fortunate enough to have had bluebirds as a regular part of the avifauna in most of the places where I've lived. My recollection from growing up in western Massachusetts is that Bluebirds were fairly common around the farm when I was quite young (i.e. in the late 1950s), and then they weren't; they became very rare visitors. My bird-loving father attributed the decline of Bluebirds to the increasing population of European Starlings, a species introduced to this country in the late 19th century, and the ensuing competition for cavity nesting sites. Contemporary ornithologists confirm his belief that Starlings were the bad guys in the scenario, though the problem arose before I was born. Fortunately, programs that began in the 1960s to distribute Bluebird-friendly nesting boxes have been quite successful in reversing the population decline. (Alas, my father was always frustrated in his own efforts to attract Bluebirds to the farm, because Tree Swallows invariably took over any nesting boxes that he put out. Not that that's a bad thing in and of itself.)
In any case, I am pleased to report that here in southern Maine in the 21st century, people are now enjoying the benefits of these recovery efforts. I was utterly delighted when a pair of Bluebirds showed up at my suet feeders one cold, snowy day in February, 2019. An unprecedented occurrence! Bluebirds like a lot of open space and, although we have a sizable front yard, I'd always assumed that it was not quite large enough to appeal to them. Apparently not. They hung around throughout that winter, and when Spring came they set up housekeeping in the one nesting box that I had put out in the yard. They have been a more-or-less permanent, year-round presence around the place ever since.
The new visitors hatched out one brood that year, but then got caught up in some turf battles with a pair of pugnacious House Wrens--Starlings and Tree Swallows aren't the only other birds that compete with Bluebirds for good nesting spots. At some point the wrens wrested control of the house from the Bluebirds and proceeded to fill it with sticks, as is their wont. They also produced one brood of their own. Once I was satisfied that all the young wrens had fledged, I cleaned out the jumble of sticks that passes for a nest in Wrenworld, and the Bluebirds soon re-asserted their rights to the house. They even re-built their own nest (see photo below) and raised a second brood that summer.
Squabbles between House Wrens and Bluebirds have been going on since before European Starlings entered the picture. Audubon said of the House Wren: "it makes war on the Martin, the Blue Bird, and the House Swallow, the nest of any of which it does not scruple to appropriate to itself, whenever the occasion offers." Forbush reported: "There is always a feud between Bluebirds and House Wrens, especially when they wish to occupy the same nesting boxes or are domiciled near each other." (1929, p. 420) My father's experience with Tree Swallows taking over houses he'd intended for Bluebirds was certainly not unique. John Burroughs observed: “The bluebirds, when they build about the farm buildings, sometimes come in
conflict with the swallows.” (p. 68)
We can add English Sparrows, another introduced species, to the list of those who can make it tough for Bluebirds to find suitable nesting spots. Pictured above are two editions of the Bluebird trading card issued by Church & Dwight, makers of Arm & Hammer baking soda. The text on the card on the left includes a comment that English Sparrows are the "enemy" of the Bluebird, and the surprising recommendation that killing Sparrows was "the best encouragement to the permanent settlement of Bluebirds." This seems an unduly harsh solution, especially given that the purpose of the cards was to discourage such things--"For the good of all, do not destroy the birds." The text was amended for the later card on the right.
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Not only are Bluebirds more numerous than they were a few decades ago, but they are among the species whose migratory patterns have changed during my lifetime. A recurring theme with many of the writers whose work I've consulted is that Bluebirds, along with Robins, have been seen as traditional harbingers of Spring in New England and elsewhere in the north. Turning again to John Burroughs (probably writing from his home in the Hudson Valley of NY, north of Poughkeepsie): “In New York and in New England the sap starts up in the sugar maple the
very day the bluebird arrives, and sugar-making begins forthwith.” (p. 62) And again--in one of his most lyrical passages: “It
is sure to be a bright March morning when you first hear his note: and it is as
if the milder influences up above had found a voice and let a word fall upon
your ear, so tender is it and so prophetic, a hope tinged with regret.” (p. 61)
Well, sorry John, but things have changed a bit since you penned those lines. As I write in early March, 2022, Bluebirds have been in my yard here in southern Maine throughout the winter, and the sugaring season has only just gotten underway. In fairness, very few species have begun their seasonal singing and, as far as I'm aware, Bluebirds are not among them; it may yet be a "bright March morning" when we first hear one. Even if he is not newly-arrived in the neighborhood.
As far as I'm concerned, losing whatever buzz might be generated by seeing "the first Bluebird of Spring" with "all that his coming implies" in exchange for having some around all through the snows of January and February, is a trade-off I'm more than happy to make. Let's face it--as much as we love our Chickadees, Titmice, Juncos, small woodpeckers, and Nuthatches, they don't exactly brighten up the landscape. But seeing flashes of blue through falling snow on a gray, dreary, January day can do wonders for one's spirits. Because Bluebirds molt in Autumn, the males' plumage is at its best during the winter months. With all due respect to Mr. Thoreau, their hue in winter is not a sky-blue azure, but, rather a deep, almost metallic, cobalt blue. And, in the right light, their rusty-orange breasts seem almost to glow. From our breakfast table we have a view into the yard on the side of the house where we have our bird feeders. Many's the time I've looked up from the morning crossword and been rewarded with the sight of a handsome male Bluebird or two, perched in the branches of one of our oaks; a welcome splash of color in an otherwise drab vista. It invariably puts a smile on my face.
It is not for their beauty alone that we humans hold Bluebirds in high regard. Their penchant for eating worms and insects that damage crops or are otherwise considered to be pests, earns them high marks with farmers. Bluebirds' predisposition for consuming large quantities of noxious small critters has long been recognized and celebrated. Alexander Wilson, in his magnum opus, American Ornithology (1808-1814) noted: "His society is courted by the inhabitants of the country; and few farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer-house, ready-fitted and rent-free. For this he more than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys."
Wilson also provided a charming account of parental tutelage in the art of bug-hunting: "The Bluebird, in summer and fall, is fond of frequenting open pasture-fields; and there, perching on the stalks of the great mullein, to look out for passing insects. A whole family of them are often seen thus situated, as if receiving lessons in dexterity from their more expert parents, who can espy a beetle crawling among the grass at a considerable distance; and after feeding on it, instantly resume their former position."
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A few months back I queried my cousins who now own the family farm about the current presence of Bluebirds there. "Oh! Do we have Bluebirds!" was the immediate, enthusiastic response. My father would be thrilled! I only wish he were still alive to be able to enjoy them.
Both beautiful and beneficial, there are few more desirable birds to have around yard or farm than the Bluebird. I remain as delighted as I was when some first showed up that they have chosen to stick around and grace my little corner of the world.
After all, who doesn't love Bluebirds? Well, maybe not House Wrens and Starlings...
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Bluebird lovers might want to familiarize themselves with the work of the North American Bluebird Society, an organization dedicated to Bluebird conservation. On the state level there is also the Ohio Bluebird Society. No doubt there are similar organizations in other states. The quotes from John Burroughs come from his piece, "The Bluebird," published in The Birds of John Burroughs:
Keeping a Sharp Lookout, New
York: Hawthorn Books, 1976, pp. 61-73. The full text of a different piece about Bluebirds by Burroughs is available online. Audubon's description of the Blue-bird was published in his Ornithological Biography. The excerpt containing the bit that I quote that can be found online, as can Alexander Wilson's entry on the Bluebird from his magnum opus, American Ornithology. See also Wilson's poem,"The Blue-Bird." The quote from Thoreau that serves as the title of this post is from his journal entry of April 3, 1852. It can be found in Thoreau on Birds, ed.
Francis H. Allen, Boston: Beacon Press, 1910; reprint edition 1993, p.
449. The Forbush quotes come from his 1907 work, Useful Birds and Their Protection, and Birds of Massachusetts and Other New England States, 3 volumes, 1925-1929.
Good, helpful article about maintaining Bluebird nesting boxes: "To Clean or Not to Clean Your Nest Box."
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