My jaw dropped the first time I saw an Eastern Bluebird. Wow! The male boasts an iridescent royal blue unlike anything else in nature. Many backyard birdwatchers, myself included, are rendered inarticulate whenever one comes into view.

I’m fortunate enough to have an occupied Audubon Eastern Bluebird nesting box. Since last year when the bluebird couple set up housekeeping in the box, I’ve become obsessed with watching their every move.

Each time I walk past a window or glass door, I pause to see what’s happening at the box. Are the birds perched on top, clinging to the side and peering in, or out of view? My obsession, fueled by the birds’ spectacular appearance, has matured into respect for their parenting style and admiration of their playful family traditions.

Last spring after the birds built a nest in the box, they waited patiently until the New Hampshire weather was warm enough for the female to lay her eggs. Each day at sundown, one of them would bed down with the clutch to keep the eggs warm and safe through the night. During daylight the pair lingered nearby to keep watch, dive bombing those they viewed as threats, such as Grey Squirrels, Blue Jays and Brown headed Cowbirds. Amazingly, they would allow Chipping and Tree Sparrows to rest on top of their box without a second glance.

Through either intuition or learning, the pair also knew they could trust me to inspect their box. And perhaps because my Labradors are ever present, the birds tolerated the dogs as they ran, played and barked only feet from the nesting box. Even after my male yellow Lab marked the nesting box post, the birds carried on with their business without a pause. With this risk management policy in place, the pair raised three healthy broods last summer.

After each clutch hatched, I watched as the real work began for the pair. Both the male and the female bluebird were busy gobbling up worms and insects and returning to the box with a high protein meal for the hatchlings. Sometimes, the father or the mother sat on top of the box, waiting for its mate to exit after completing a feeding session. This alternating method seemed necessary to feed the youngsters.

The hatchlings fledged from their box when they reached approximately 20 days old. One morning last June I witnessed one of the hatchlings fledge. Its panic was apparent: it flapped its wings hard and fast but it wasn’t getting far, reminding me of a single engine plane barely keeping out of a tailspin.

So, when I read that bluebirds don’t return to the nest they were born in, I wasn’t surprised. They don’t appear to have the flying skills necessary to get through the nesting box hole. When they first emerged from their nesting box, the juveniles were a dull blue and their reddish brown breasts mottled with buff color. They were round and fat, not at all like sleek adult bluebirds. I estimated that each day a bird would fledge until the box was empty. It was then that I removed the old nesting material from the box and swept it clean.

For a week or so after they left the box, the juveniles waited in trees for their parents to bring them food. But the parents knew it was time for their offspring to feed themselves. There was no parental angst about their babies’ sudden independence and maturity. The elder birds let the young fend for themselves and occupied their time building a fresh nest in the now empty box. 

As the bluebird parents cared for their next brood, the juveniles remained close. Sometimes they jockeyed for position on top of the box to watch the parental feeding parade. The temptation to peer inside was overwhelming for the young bluebirds, especially during a commotion for food or a skirmish over space in the nest.

When they were not loitering by the nesting box, the birds were exploring their surroundings in a large troop. They were like the Von Trapp Family Singers: eating, chirping, and traveling with a sense of urgency and danger at every stop. And the singing group expanded after the second clutch fledged, and again when the third clutch fledged. By Labor Day there were 12 juvenile bluebirds following their parents from tree to tree, from fence to fence.

Just when I figured the bluebird parents reached exhaustion from their summer of reproductive success, they disappeared. The family had moved on together. 

This year, on the last day of February, a pair of bluebirds appeared in our backyard. Although I can’t say for sure whether they are the same couple from last year, the way they knew their way around the nesting box made me think they are.

By Donna Jensen, Master Gardener and Community Tree Steward