The bluebird made it official ~ May 3, 2003

David Heiller 

Tree swallows were weaving a net over us last Saturday morning. They seemed to perch on every Al Jensen bluebird house in sight.

Bluebird

Tree swallow

I have nothing against tree swallows. They are confident and beautiful, and they eat a lot of mosquitoes. All great traits in a bird.

But we needed a bluebird. They are on the top of my list in the bird world. They always remind me of my Grandma Schnick, for some reason, of the good old days. Their red breast and soft blue color almost take my breath away.

I had staked a claim on the bench in the backyard, with muffins, coffee, and a banjo. Cindy joined me. That’s when we started looking for bluebirds.

“We usually see them by your Mom,” I said. Lorely’s ashes are buried on a little knoll next to the pond.

“And there it is,” Cindy said. I’m not making this up. The bluebird appeared as if on cue, on the bird house where we always see it.

The little knoll by the pond, a favorite
 bluebird nesting spot at our house.

Heaven has a lot of definitions, but that spot, that sight, and that moment was one of them.

Spring got officially underway then too. The calendar said it had happened six weeks earlier, but that warm moment was when it kicked in.

A hint of it came a few days earlier, on May 1, when I practically jumped out of bed at 5:45. It happens every year like clockwork, a feeling that I can’t lay in bed, that life is too short and the day is too perfect. Is it something in the light? Something in my genes? I don’t know. I only wish it would last all year. If I could bottle up that enthusiasm, I would be rich.

A lot of little things lead up to spring. Melting snow, maple syrup, frogs. Mud, grass fires, rain. The Minnesota Twins!

Bluebird babies in one of
our nesting boxes.

Then all of a sudden, it’s here. That’s what hit last Saturday morning, when that bluebird flew into the spotlight.

I was worried that I might miss it this year.

Things have been hectic. But I had enough sense to slow down last Saturday and soak it in a bit.

My thoughts had a bid of sadness with them too. We are going to be moving this fall, and in all likelihood, this will be our last spring on this property. The land, the garden, the birds, they all seem as familiar and comfortable as a favorite pair of jeans. I looked at it all last Saturday and thought, “Man I’m going to miss this.” You get attached to a back yard after 22 years!

The garden with its endless battles and blessings. The pond with its skating and swimming. The campfire, where we visited with friends. The sauna. Heck; even the outhouse brings a wry smile.

So many memories. I’ll have the rest of my life to remember them. It’s too soon to dwell on them here.

So I’ll just count my blessings for another wonderful spring—and that includes a big thank you for the glorious rain we got on Monday and Tuesday of this week. I hope you are enjoying your spring, and your bluebirds, equally as much.