From a distance I spotted a flash of white, high in the uppermost branches of a tree. It was vaguely bird-shaped, but I had to move closer to know for sure—I am often fooled by misshapen branches or clumps of leaves. Eventually I was able to determine that what I had seen were the white breast feathers of an Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) grooming itself in the early morning sunshine.
I love bluebirds and they invariably bring a smile to my face, especially when I recall the words of Benjamin, a young viewer of my blog, who remarked that these birds should be called “orange bluebirds,” because they have as much orange as they do blue.
© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.
