And so the question goes…
Who doesn’t love a bluebird when it darts across the sky?
In search of some great secret thing and of happiness, says the poet, perhaps one is looking for the bluebird.
Whether it’s called azure or cerulean, the bluebird’s brilliant hue has inspired writers of verse, prose, song, and plays in various cultures throughout the ages.
Often symbolizing happiness, the bluebird is also considered elusive. Interestingly, that elusive notion of happiness is as compelling today as it was long ago. Are we not all seeking some form of happiness?
You are looking for the Blue Bird, that is to say, the great secret of things and of happiness.
— A.T. Mattos, translation of Maurice Maeterlinck, Blue Bird iii. ii.131
I love this photo of a sculpted Saint Francis bending down to a real live mountain bluebird! Accounts of St. Francis tell us that he too, loved God’s creation of birds and therefore felt called to preach to them.
The bluebird is often considered a harbinger of spring.
When winter’s cold tempests and snows are no more, …
O then comes the Blue-bird, the herald of spring.
¯Alexander Wilson, American Ornithology, 1808 vol. 1. 59
***
And from the stately elms I hear/
The Blue-bird prophesying spring/
Embrace the glory you observe because things may change./
—”It is Not Always May” by H.W. Longfellow
There is joy, of course, in this thrush’s birdsong!
I do not know what gorgeous thing/
the bluebird keeps saying,/
…
it seems the only thing in the world/
that is without dark thoughts./
—”What Gorgeous Thing” by Mary Oliver
Spoken by a crow to a little girl, Robert Frost writes about the departure of a bluebird in stormy weather:
That the north wind last night/
That made the stars bright/
And made ice on the trough/
Almost made him cough/
His tail feathers off./
—”The Last Word of a Bluebird (As Told to a Child),” by Robert Frost
And on that note by frosty ole’ Robert above, here is my own bluebird rendezvous to share:
Tail of a Bluebird (A True Story)
It happened one spring after a big Colorado snowstorm. Frequently, in those storms, a small flock of birds (typically robins or bluebirds) would descend and find refuge under the archway of my home just outside the front door. Instead of resting under that arch, four bluebirds perched on the roof gutter above the door and waited out the storm through the entire night.
Their tail feathers served as rudders in the roof gutters holding their small blue bodies secure on the rim as the wind blew and blew. But lo and behold, the wet snow in the gutters froze solid encasing their tails in a thick block of ice.
What a racket they must have made as their wings flapped and flailed with no avail as they tried to fly away. Exhausted, it was only a slight wing-flutter and a weak cheap-cheap that my husband and I heard the following morning.
In the rush of first aid, my husband propped a ladder up to the eaves while I heated cups of water in the microwave. Two of the four little creatures had already succumbed to the cold, but two were still hanging onto life. Up my husband went to the top of the roofline and poured the hot liquid I had warmed into the gully of the roof gutters.
When the ice melted, their tail feathers became free and one of the bluebirds fell forward, beak-first, from the gutter to the bark garden below. No sign of life. My husband lifted the other bird in his hands and came down the ladder rungs.
In the meantime, the sun was now shining. We wrapped those darlings in small towels and put them in the sun with the tiniest container of water close by.
In the warmth of towels, those bluebirds got their second wind. They hopped out of their towels for a sip of water and a bite of the mite-morsels (harmless ash tree flower galls) that had blown down in the storm. That was enough to revive them.
And then, believe it or not, those brilliant blue creatures flew (a little wobbly) on their way. Blue feathers in a blue sky.
Here is an iridescent token of what they left behind.
Oh, Blessings of Joy!
Sending thoughts of happiness to all.
Thanks for stopping by. ♥
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https://www.oed.com/dictionary/bluebird_n?tl=true#17822915
Maurice Maeterlinck’s play L’Oiseau bleu (The Blue Bird) of 1908; compare quot. 1909.]