This is a photo of part of the large field behind my house.
Since we moved here 4 years ago, my husband has become an avid bird watcher. Which means, I’ve become a bird watcher by default. We have seen all kinds of birds in this field. Here’s a list off the top of my head.
- blue jays
- red-winged black birds
- dark-eyes juncos
- song sparrows
- red-tailed hawks
- coopers hawks
- blue herons
- scarlet tanager
- turkey vultures
- an actual turkey
- a bald eagle (that was exciting)
- mourning doves
- purple finches
- once, I think I saw an indigo bunting
- mallard ducks
- and way too many Canadian geese
That’s quite a list. But missing from that list, and irritating the Hubster to no end, is our official New York State bird, the Eastern Bluebird. He’s read up on how to attract bluebirds, seen bluebirds nearby in our area, and even put out food specifically to attract them, with no luck at all. As a last ditch effort, last weekend, he took an old birdhouse we had hanging in our crabapple tree and hung it up.
Yesterday morning, bleary-eyed and caffeine-deprived, driving on his way to work, there was a damned bluebird, sitting on a scrubby branch, underneath the birdhouse. He was there again later, when we were leaving again, and I saw him too.
Congrats, Honey! You finally did it.