Ken Noll’s CornerShot on the small brown hen [Dec. 11, 2020] impressed us to write down about our expertise with our yard bluebirds.
On a particularly sizzling June Sunday afternoon, we observed the pair sitting on an overhead line near our porch. At about the identical time, one flew right down to us.
It was so near our faces that we might really feel the comb of the hen’s feathers and the wind from its wings. It flew again to the road, then to the birdhouse, and as soon as extra into our faces. We realized they had been asking for our assist.
Opening the door to the birdhouse, we noticed three absolutely feathered child birds. One had already succumbed to the warmth, the opposite two might hardly maintain their heads up.
Leaving the door open, we went again to the porch and the ready dad and mom on the road. Twenty minutes or so later, one of many child birds flew out of the birdhouse with one of many adults flying after it.
About quarter-hour later, the second child hen flew from the birdhouse joined by the final grownup that had been watching and ready on the road.
Coincidentally, it was Father’s Day.
— Arnold and Mollie Harris, readers in Vinton
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