The Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) pictured above graced us with his presence a few years ago in my former garden. Birdgirl, who took this photograph, and I were both delighted to have bluebirds nesting in the yard. When the temperature dips and we start waking up to a layer of ice on puddles and birdbaths, my thoughts always turn to Robert Frost and his wonderful poem about a little bird’s parting words as he sets out on his long journey south.
The Last Word of a Bluebird (as Told to a Child)
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, “Oh,
I was looking for you,
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
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.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Goodbye
And said to be good,
And to wear her red hood,
And look for skunk tracks
In the snow with an axe —
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing.”
Willow House Chronicles 