The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-05-17
THE BLUEBIRD AND
THE FENCE-P0ST.

To bird-lover all tumble-down fences
and dead tree stumps are invested with al
Turing possibilities, for they are the favor
lite haunts of the bluebird. I never look
at an old fence post, shabby and gray with
age. that fancy does not spy an opening on
the other side and build therein a cunning
grassy circle, which is promptly filled with
small blue eggs. The bluebird's door is
seldom one of symmetry like that of the
chickadee, but merely a jagged crevice,
which warns the farmer that nature is at
work pulling down his fences. Often it is
in one of a row of isolated posts that have
long since ceased to join hands for the pur-
pose of keeping people out, and will soon
end their existence the woodpile. When
the old fence is supplanted and the gnarled
apple trees make way for younglings the
bluebirds are banished to some other neigh
borhood, where they labor for some other
farmer.
Fit a bluebird's wing into that ugly seam
in the old fence, and how charming it be-
comes No other bird possesses more en-
dearing traits than he. He has a sweet
gentleness and dignified grace of man.
ner. Into his soft tones, which never are
wearying, he can throw a thrilling per-
suasiveness. In family affairs he appears
to be model Of propriety. 1t is superfiu-
Gus to remark on the matchless hue of
his azure plumage as ne drops into the
grass and folds his delicate wings in the
dainty manner that only bluebird pos
sesses.
pair Of bluebirds opened the season this
year by pulling to pieces the last years
tin box. This event salved some wounded
feelings, as martins without number had
gathered and ridiculed that same martin
box every spring since 1t had been erected.
nor had it pleased any of the feather folk
except the undesirable English sparrow.
who was promptly warned away. Dame
bluebird tried the new nest with the air
Of a householder. considering the merits of
new rocking chair. Then the pair inves-
tigated the other seven compartments of
the box SO often that their neighbors at
last were puzzled to know which story they
were occupying There was evidence of
dissatisfaction-and of disagreement, too
for on one occasion when she emerged from
the little door her fond mate seized her
by the nape of the neck and shook her.
Perhaps he was wearied with her caprice
Probably he told her that that painted,
verandaed,. two-storied martin box was a
palace. or ought to be. to one who had put
up with as many rotten old fence posts as
they had occupied. But after casting a
halo of happiness on all who saw them dip
into the deep grass of the back garden for
the space of two weeks, they deserted their
nest and left their wingless neighbors in a
state of wondering chagrin.
Another bluebird chapter was disclosed
by birds noseless fitting from post to
was lear old post. and the interior was
so deep ard dark that only bit OF sky
blue egg was visible Next day. as I
where dusty stages still come and CO. a
rosy-cheeked youth who serves thirsty pa
irons at the wayside tavern stepped across
the road with chair, on which he stood
tall water naples bordering the roadside.
I'm looking at my birds, too" he said,
and told me that II was a bluebirds nest
I, too, mounted the chair, but the aperture
was too lofty for me to see into IL.
Returning along a country road. rested
as two bluebirds passed over 1t. The male
returned To the further side OF the road
and paused. facing me with tremulous
lifting Of the wings. Then learned that a
Uttering soft notes of protest. he threat
ened to fly into my face. Several times ne
darted at me, each time curving back to
the same spot. felt very close to some
thing precious. and, turning little towards
the huge gate post beside me, / saw bits
of grass projecting from it In its side
a rift over two feet deep, and in a neatly
rounded yellow basket at the bottom were
four sky-blue eggs. A few days later I
peeped in again, and the little dame was
there. How indescribably winning looked
that little ball OF heavenly blue curied
about In the depths OF the gray old post,
with the sky for her roof-for the top OF
the post WAS gone. Her eyes were anxious.
but she remained perfectly still. and
made haste to get away and cease from
troubling
1t is possible that the gentle bluebird
loves the RAISING show. At any rate. he Is
an inveterate haunter of roadside fences.
and no other fellow-traveler could be half
so welcome. He must retreat before the
march of barbed-wire fences and sound
posts, but the friendly elements viii al
ways hollow out an abiding-pla for him
somewhere.
THE bluebird. shifting his light load of
song
From pos. to post along the cherries