Eastern Bluebird: An Ogemaw County Year

This morning, as I stepped onto the front porch with my coffee steaming in the cool air, I caught a splash of color against the slowly lightening sky. There, perched on the electric wire, was the first eastern bluebird of the season. His chest was a warm, rusty orange, and his back shone a vivid, hopeful blue—like a little promise of spring. He watched the lawn with sharp, dark eyes, and with a quick drop from the wire, he was on the ground, pulling slow insects from the first soft greens peeking through the drifts of last year’s dead and browned wild flowers.

There’s something about seeing that flash of blue that makes my heart lift. After winter’s long quiet, the arrival of the bluebirds feels like a turning point. I couldn’t help but hope he’d find his way to one of the bluebird houses I’ve set up on the high sand ridge at the south end of the driveway. Those houses have stood ready through the snow and wind, waiting for a family to settle in. I can already picture him perched at the entrance, a beak full of grass, ready to make a home.

Eastern bluebirds are short-distance migrants. Many will spend the winter just a few states south, gathering in flocks and finding food where they can. As the days lengthen and temperatures rise, they start their journey back north, following the emergence of insects and fresh growth. The males often arrive first, scouting out nesting sites and singing their gentle, warbling song to draw in the females.

If all goes well, and if my little house suits their fancy, the female will soon be busy weaving a nest from grasses, pine needles, and soft moss. She’ll lay four to six pale blue eggs, and for about two weeks, she’ll sit tight while the male brings her food. Once the eggs hatch, both parents will hustle to keep the nestlings fed—primarily a diet of insects.

In just a little over two weeks, those chicks will fledge—tumbling out of the nest with awkward wings and more courage than skill. I love to watch that phase, the parents coaxing them along, keeping them fed, and teaching them the ways of the world. The pair might even settle in for a second brood if the summer is good to them.

I sipped my coffee, and watched him take off again, a blue arc against the gray. The morning had started with a chill still clinging to the edges, but with that bluebird here, it felt like spring might finally be close enough to touch.