First sign of happiness

By TINA SPANGLER

My son Mack reminded us of a little baby bird when he was born last month—eyes closed, limbs lanky, and his head covered in soft hair. Even though he was only with us for a short time, he filled his mommy’s heart with so much joy that my chest physically ached with happiness.

This morning in my kitchen, I found myself talking right out loud to my son, telling him every little thing I love and miss about him. Tears pouring out of my eyes, I looked out my back door and spotted a pair of Eastern bluebirds perched in the gray birch tree above my garden. Then, another pair flew in and landed. And then another. Six bluebirds—three brilliant males and three grey females—their red breasts and white bellies stood out against the bleak winter landscape. Each one took a turn poking its head inside an old birdhouse nailed to the tree trunk. They spent time assessing my yard, perching on the telephone wires and foraging near my pond.

Eastern bluebirds like to nest in old woodpecker holes and bird houses. The male attracts a female to a nest site by carrying material in and out of the hole, perching and fluttering his wings. Once they agree on a home, the female builds their nest by knitting together grass and pine needles, then lining it with softer grasses and hair or feathers. She takes so much care building her homestead because bluebirds often use the same nest for multiple broods.

I’ve never seen a bluebird in my yard before, let alone six of them in the middle of January. My partner Rick explained it this way: Mack was sending his mommy bluebirds of happiness—and lots of ‘em. I’ve always known that Native American cultures regard the bluebird as a symbol of joy and new life. Today I realized why. For hours, I watched the birds with a lightness in my heart that I haven’t felt in weeks. I also felt a glimmer of hope for spring.

If these bluebirds like the real estate I have to offer, perhaps they’ll move in and raise their babies here this April. If they do, they’ll find me making a memorial garden—complete with blue flowers and a birdbath—in honor of my sweet little baby Mack.

Life is sweet, tender and complete

When you find the bluebird of happiness.

You will find perfect peace of mind

When you find the bluebird of happiness.

Two hearts that beat as one,

‘Neath a new found sun,

We are in a world that’s just begun,

And you must sing his song, as you go along,

When you find the bluebird of happiness.

—“Bluebird of Happiness”

by Art Mooney, 1948