Last Christmas, my wife gave me a bluebird nesting box as a present. I attached the box to the trunk of a a tree, out on our prairie, in late April of this year. And it was now time to see if we had a nesting pair of bluebirds.
It was May 19th, and as I hid in the tall grass, about 100 feet away, I reminded myself of the doctor’s appointment I had to leave for in about an hour. Fading from the impressionism of my surroundings into the realism of the environment, it took only a few minutes before I saw a pointillist dot of blue flick out of the nest box. I needed to move closer.