My Bluebirds 



BY LAWRENCE F. LOVE, Cleveland, O. (Aged 12 years.) 



ONE day in February, I put up three bird -boxes, two large ones and 

 one small one, hoping that a Wren would take the small box. 

 Soon I saw some Bluebirds. Of course I began to watch them to 

 find where they were going to nest. First they began to build in a hole 

 in an old apple tree, but the Sparrows seemed to think it belonged to them 

 and they gathered in great numbers to drive the Bluebirds away. A kind 

 Robin helped them to defend it, but in the end the Sparrows conquered, 

 and my bluecoats began to look around for a new nesting place. They 

 tried one of the houses, but did not seem satisfied with it. Finally, one 

 Sunday morning near the middle of April, I saw the dull-bluish female 

 carrying straw to the box nearest the house. Even there the Sparrows 

 troubled them, but the Bluebirds drove them off. One day when the eggs 

 were laid the Juncos joined with the Sparrows in an attack. It is impos- 

 sible to say which side was defeated, but the Sparrows bothered the Blue- 

 birds but little afterward. On May 14 the young ones came out of the 

 nest. There were five. Three were brownish on the back, with a little 

 blue on the tail. Their breasts were grayish, spotted with brown. The 

 other two had more blue about the head and back; I think these two 

 were males. One of these was the first to fly, and he flew to the ground 

 besides a porch, where a dog stood looking down on him. I put him 

 into the nest, but he flew out again, and got into the lower branches of 

 a tree. One of the others flew into another tree, and the others soon 

 followed. Then a venturesome one flew, but was stopped by a house. 

 After resting on a window sill for a moment, his mother coaxed him into 

 a tree. In the meanwhile, the rest had flown, and for a while the old 

 birds were busy teaching them to fly well. Then the little ones roosted 

 in the top of a high apple tree. The next morning the parents were 

 engaged in feeding them, and such appetites! The one that first flew 

 was the weakling, and did not learn to fly well for several days. Then 

 I missed them for some days, and thought they had learned to care for 

 themselves. But one afternoon I heard the familiar call, and looking 

 up into a tree, found them. Now they acted like fly catchers, flying 

 into the air like fly catchers, and returning to their original perch. They 

 were strong in flight, and it was difficult to tell them from the old ones. 

 They were beginning to care for themselves and were developing a voice 

 of sweetness. 



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