"Bluebird in Winter"

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“Bluebird in Winter”

November 17, 2022

 

“A man’s interest in a single bluebird is worth more than

a complete but dry list of the fauna and flora of a town.”

                                                                                                         Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

                                                                                                         Letter to Daniel Ricketson, November 22, 1858

                                                                                                         The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, 1864

 

On a chilly November morning, my wife and I, walking through a field, spotted a bluebird. I wondered: Why haven’t you gone south? It turns out some bluebirds stay for the winter. While temperatures have risen in Connecticut by about a degree and a half Fahrenheit over the past hundred and fifty years, average January and February lows are still between five and seven degrees below freezing.

 

As a fan of Beatrix Potter, Thornton W. Burgess, and Kenneth Grahame. I anthropomorphize our avian friends. The male bluebird we watched had been sent by his wife on an errand – perhaps to the hardware store, but more likely to purchase sheets of music; for the bluebird is a harbinger of happiness, and singing is important to him.  In The Birds of John Burroughs, the author-naturalist (1837-1921) wrote: “There never was a happier or more devoted husband than the male bluebird. He is the gay champion and escort of the female at all times, and, while she is sitting, he feeds her regularly.”

 

Bluebirds have long been symbols of happiness. In China, during the Shang Dynasty, a green or blue bird was the messenger of the Queen Mother of the West. In North America’s west, Navahos identified the mountain bluebird with the rising sun. In Russian fairy tales, the blue bird is a symbol of hope. The French fairy tale, L’Oiseau Bleu, written in 1697 by Madame d’Aulnoy, tells of a king changing into a blue bird.

 

Once on the endangered list, the eastern bluebird has made a comeback. It is estimated that the species has a breeding population of about twenty-three million. Urbanization and changing land use limited their feeding grounds in late 19^th Century and early 20^th Century, and the introduction of European starlings and house sparrows created competition for nesting cavities. For about a hundred years the population of eastern bluebirds declined. From the 1980s on, however, as we became more environmentally conscious, their numbers increased. Nevertheless, competition persists. A few years ago, from our bedroom window in Old Lyme, I watched helplessly as a starling chased newly settled bluebirds from the birdhouse we had put up.

 

I worry about wintering bluebirds. While no expert on the fauna that surrounds us, I know birds do not have fur coats or down-filled parkas. They do not have wool hats or lambs-wool-lined leather gloves. There are no galoshes designed for four-taloned feet. All they have is what nature provided – body temperatures of about 107 degrees and feathers that ruffle to hold in their body heat. They do, though, gain fat for the winter ahead, and they are able to slow their metabolism.

 

Nevertheless, I am happy they are here in winter. In her 1984 book I Hear Bluebirds, Dr, Shirl Brunell wrote: “As long as there are bluebirds, there will be miracles and a way to find happiness.” During wintery days, they provide music and color, and they put smiles on our faces, as this one did on ours.