I could fairly be accused of becoming obsessed with bluebirds, at this season of the year – not just checking whether there are squirrel marauders around, but looking to make sure that regular feedings are taking place; that little beak-fulls of white baby bluebird poop are being carried out of the house at regular intervals; that there aren’t any sparrows in the vicinity – so strange that house sparrows are apparently so rare in London now, but they are everywhere in the US, where I regard them as nasty little invaders that, yes, attack bluebirds. So – I reckon that this current nest contains bluebirds who are five or six days old – another five or six before we hope to start seeing their little faces, another five or six after that before they fly. If all goes well …
I don’t know if this bird, sitting on a post just down the road, is one of ours – but he’s uncommonly handsome, so surely he must be.
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