I have been wanting to see a bluebird for years and years. They're such mythical little creatures--and aren't they the ones always flitting in and out of Disney movies, helping Cinderella get dressed for the ball, and swirling around the Sleeping Beauty. So probably since I was a child, I have thought, that's the bird for me. After owls, that is. And hawks. And doves. And hummingbirds. Okay. That's my list of favorites. Oh, and Baltimore Orioles.
Never mind. I love them all. And finally, today, I saw a pair of bluebirds for the first time ever. I am thrilled; amazing what joy such a small thing can bring. I cannot figure out where they are living, but they seem to like the large old maple in the backyard. And they love the granite birdbath.
They dive in, shaking water over their backs, and shiver it off, all day long. I actually felt as though I were intruding on their privacy, taking pictures of them as they bathed. But I had to snap away as I could scarcely believe my own eyes--and my good luck. (Sorry to have cut her head out of the picture, I didn't even realize she was in it). Eastern bluebirds have had to fight their way back into our lives; I'm so glad I got a chance to see one in my garden--and I'm so happy to share it.