This morning, I saw Papa Bluebird back at the mealworm feeder.  That is encouraging!!  ~~  Sometimes I don’t know why I do what I do.  I checked another Bluebird house at the edge of my yard.  “Yes,” they were building a nest there.  BUT mean old lady cleaned out the beginning of a nest AND she hopes, and prays, they will return to their original home.  Why am I discouraging them?  This bird house has a “door” that is held in place with a screw.  It would be impossible for me to “peek” into the nest.  I was totally ignorant of information regarding Bluebirds when I purchased that Bluebird house.  I’ve learned a lot via books and Internet.  Furthermore, I can’t see this bird house from my living room.  This is a gamble.  Will the Bluebirds return to their original home? ~~ My first bird house purchase was expensive: Over $35.00!! But, unbeknown to me, American-made, recycled plastic, virtually indestructible does not attract birds. I’ve learned they want a house “that breathes”–a house made of wood.

Postscript, same day, 12:30 PM: They’re back!!  Mama and Papa Bluebird are very busy carrying pine needles to build a new nest in their previous house.  Hallelujah!! ~~  Hopefully I’ll have picture confirmation soon. ~~ Postscript, same day, 8:00 PM: I’ve waited patiently, off-and-on all afternoon, for a picture of the Bluebird couple. They are coming and going so fast, I miss the photo opportunity!! But a female Cardinal was content to sit quietly.

Postscript, Sunday, July 1, 2012, 9:30 AM: Mama Blue is impossible to photograph because she is flying very fast to-and-from. Papa Blue is attentive!

Postscript, Monday, July 2, 2012, 8:00 PM: It appears the new nest is complete.  It looks identical to the nest I removed (and destroyed) on Friday.  God’s creation is so amazing!!  Consider for one moment Mama Blue feeding babies on Tuesday and Wednesday.  Babies leave the nest on Thursday or Friday.  Mama & Papa start building a new nest on Friday or Saturday.  New nest is complete on Monday.  I’ll keep watching for new eggs.  (You haven’t heard the last of this story.)