What’s life in the country without bird feeders and bird houses? Oh, we have them all right – sugar water stations for the hummers, sunflower and thistle seed feeders, and various avian hotels. But, when I heard about the plight of the American Bluebirds (not finding enough places to raise their young), I bought three houses just for them.
PICKY TENANTS
Did you know there are rules about bluebird houses? Like they need to be placed about 5 feet off the ground on a fence post or a tree overlooking a pasture, and facing south! Imagine? What would happen to the little birdies if their houses faced north for Heaven’s sake?
And if you are lucky enough to acquire a bluebird couple as tenants, they might manage to have a family (very cute to watch), but then they kick the kids out, and abandon the nest. They can return two or three times more in a season, but get this – they want a clean house. They start over each time and it has to be from scratch! Soooo – As the landlord, you have to clean out the old nest to make room for the new. No wonder bluebirds are having trouble finding homes!
AVIAN HOTEL MAID
Still, I followed all the rules to make the bluebirds happy and placed one of the houses on a tree at the edge of the woods, overlooking a wide stone driveway. Somehow it worked. We got a family of bluebirds. They made babies and then left me with the cleaning up to do. Their house was down a little, grassy slope.
Wait! Don’t leave me yet. The story gets better. I promise!
A SLIPPERY SLOPE
It was just after a rainy morning when I decided to clear out the previous tenant’s nest. I headed for the little slope, started down and that was a BIG MISTAKE! Swisssssssh! My feet went out from under me in the wet grass. Next thing I knew I was flat on my back with my ankle turned at an odd angle and obviously badly broken. Uh Oh!
At this point I was calmly thinking, “I BROKE MY ANKLE FOR THOSE D——- LITTLE BLUEBIRDS IN ORDER TO GIVE THEM A CLEAN HOME! *@$#!X&**$#!!!!!”
My husband’s name is Bill. I call him Billy. So I started yelling, “B – I – L – L – YEEE !!!!!!!” I knew I couldn’t get up and certainly couldn’t walk. I was lying on the slope contemplating crawling home.
B – I – L – L – Y EEEEEEEEEE! I knew he was in his little den inside the house and the window was open. Why couldn’t he hear me? After about 12 top-of-the-lung screams there he (finally) was. “Where WERE you? “
And here is what he said, “I thought it was a cow mooing from across the pasture.”
He thought I was a cow?
Now I ask you, how does one mistake a woman’s cry for a cow’s bellow?
To his credit (or due to his odd visualization of size and weight) Billyeeee then decided he would carry me into the house. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Better get a fork lift!” So, instead he called 911 for an ambulance. The paramedics came in short order, wrapped the ankle and carted me off to the ER and eventual surgery.
Obviously, I survived. The bluebird house is still there, and if there are any interested families, they will have to clean it out themselves. This avian hotel maid has quit her job.
This is a country-life adventure I just had to share.
Do you believe I was mistaken for a COW when all I wanted to do was provide a clean home for a family of bluebirds?
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