This business of baby raising has made me and Husband nervous wrecks.

First off, the daddy Blue Bird come and inspected the house inside and out, several times. Then he fetched the Mrs. and had to convince her with much ado to even tour the inside, much less move in.

There were several days of toting stuff, building the nest good and sturdy. Then Mama Bird disappeared inside, never coming out at all while she laid the eggs. But Papa Bird was good, and fed her routinely.
The fast food industry ain’t got nothing on Papa Bird.

After a while, she started getting out and about again, while he would stand proudly on top of the house, guarding his domain.

Then something went wrong.

Mama Bird completely disappeared. Daddy Bird disappeared. Several days later, he came back, late in the evening.

The male Blue Bird kept coming back in the evenings, and we counseled him to move on. We were grieving, so we figured he was too. It was really sad. And though he couldn’t hear us from behind our kitchen window, we commiserated with him till he stopped showing up.

Finally Husband went out and looked inside. Six beautiful blue eggs lay in the nest.

We mourned. Obviously something had happened to the Mama Bird. Of course, we speculated. Had a hawk got her? Had she been hit by a car?

Husband debated as to whether to throw out the eggs, but we decided to leave them be.

About a week later a male Blue Bird appeared. We don’t know if it was the same one, or a different one, but he brought along a female. They were in and out, spiffing up the place. (I looked up what might have happened to the abandoned eggs and read the female probably ate most of them for the calcium, and did away with the rest. Gross.)

The cycle started again, except this time we had success! Out came our binoculars and we spied on the little family.

Days went by.

Mama and Papa were run ragged trying to keep the little greedy babies fed. Grasshoppers, worms, bugs. And they’d no more than get them fed till the babies would stick their heads out, mouths open. They never, ever, got full. Sorta like a teenage boy.

Mama and Daddy took turns leaving the house, foraging for food and stretching their wings.

Husband decided to take a look one evening and had the privilege of getting to see one of the little fellers take his first flight. I guess it’s a pretty scary thing, because the next morning there was bird poop all over the entrance where the babies stood before flying off.

Finally, we could relax.Babies were raised and gone.

Mama and Papa Bird were on vacation, thinking, “Man, this is the life.”

And five days later, it started all over again. I need me a nerve pill.