I’ve been a bit in mourning over the last bluebird nest, the one the Mama abandoned with four little unhatched eggs. And I’ve kept a steady watch for the parents—I want irrefutable proof they are both still around. Typically that means looking out the window just after supper; they most often show up just as I’m washing the dinner dishes. Most nights I see at least one, but since they tend to hang around down by the water, I can’t always get a good enough look to know for sure whether I’ve spotted a male or a female.

And then just before we left for Spain, I looked out to see some baby bird activity.

I grabbed the camera and ran for the porch. There were birds everywhere! As I opened the screen door, they scurried one yard over, to the Cope’s . We’d had a light rain and there were still some drops coming down. But I didn’t care as I realized just what was going on.

Papa goes first.

Now for the babies.

And then there were ten!

Ten—count ’em, ten—bluebirds, and most of ’em babies, having the finest time playing in the water collected in the kayak’s hull.

I thought I might faint! Which birds were these? My bluebirds could not have hatched a new nest in the time that had passed since I last saw the Mama sitting on the nest on our downstairs porch. And surely there were at least two broods collected here. Is this another family of bluebirds altogether? I could spot one Papa in many of my photos (you see him above in bright blue), but I still couldn’t identify the Mama.

Oh well. Whoever they are, I think it’s a miracle. Right there on Bickley’s Pond, one big happy bluebird family!

bluebirdies!