WISCONSIN BIRD-STUDY BULLETIN. • 21 



BLUEBIRD. 



Common summer resident; length seven inches; sexes much alike 

 female duller; nest in hollow stumps, trees, posts and in bird-boxes; 

 eggs four to six; note a short but very pleasing contralto warble. 



To think of the bluebird is to think of Spring. The long weeks of 

 winter have had their rugged pleasures. The bird lover may have 

 taken snow-shoe tramps afield to search for traces of the quail and 

 grouse, to share a meal with the friendly chickadee, to watch the 

 woodpeckers or tree sparrows, or to discover some occasional resident 

 as the robin or red- winged blackbird, shrike or crossbill; but in the 

 main, the fields have been deserted and the wild life, like the woods, 

 has seemed wrapped in a long, restful sleep. We begin to long for the 

 ringing up of the white curtain and the lowering of the green one. 

 How glad Ave are when the warble of the bluebird, the cackle of the 

 robin, and the joyous whistle of the meadow-lark give us warning 

 that the change of curtains is about to be made. 



The bluebird ventures back to the southern, half of Wisconsin the 

 first week in J\Iarch. His back never looks so blue as when in con- 

 trast with the March and April snow. It is in harmony with the sky 

 from the first, but his breast must help to melt away the lingering 

 snow before it can be in keeping with the rich, brown earth. 



Returning together, the bluebird and his mate soon set about look- 

 ing over available nesting places. The English sparrow is, at this 

 time, their only competitor, but a severe competitor he is. As cold 

 weather approached in the fall, he appropriated for mnter quarter s 

 every bird-box into wiiich he could squeeze; more than that, he began 

 carryng in new nesting materials on any mild, sunny day n February. 

 Now he feels that the box is his both by right of discovery and posses- 

 sion and possession is nine points of the law with birds- as with higher 

 animals. Unless some one comes to the aid of the bluebirds they must 

 leave their last year's home in the hands of the enemy — "The little 

 beast" as Mr. Van Dyke calls the English sparrow, and go off to the 

 woods in search of a hollow tree or stump. This seizing of nesting 

 places is the chief way in which the beast drives our native birds from 

 the city into the country and from the country home to the woods 

 and fences. If then, we wish to keep the bluebird, tree swallow and 

 martins about our homes in city and country we must work out some 

 plan for beating the beast. To that end it is well to take down the 

 bird boxes in November and to put them up again in the spring, 

 for the bluebird, the fifth or sixth of March, for the tree-swallow, 

 the fifth or sixth of April, for the purple martins, the first of May. 



There will be a fight for the boxes just the same, but the chances 

 of Vv'ar Avill be more evenly balanced. The native birds may be aided 

 further if the doorway of the birdhonse is guarded by a little door 

 so arranged that it may be pulled aside from the ground by a string. 



