The Bluebird Diaries - Chapter 3

They're all here! The clutch is complete! Four beautiful sky blue eggs! Mister Blue and I are so excited!

We knew we might have anywhere from 3 to possibly 7 eggs. We also knew that our second brood of the breeding season would likely number fewer than the first. Four eggs are just right!

And now, we wait. 12 to 14 long days and nights. Once incubation begins, it must be continuous. This is going to be the hard part.

Mister Blue comes to check on me regularly.

"Bonnie Blue?" he calls, "is there anything I can get you?"

He is just the sweetest bird. I hope these babies have his thoughtful genes.

All he needs to do for me, though, is mind those older fledglings. That and make sure I'm not disturbed.

Wouldn't you know that I would pick the hottest days of the year so far to begin sitting on these eggs? Some folks might think it's hot enough for them to incubate themselves, but I'm not taking any chances. I stay on them as long as I can stand it, and then I take a short break to cool off and have a snack.

Our landlord is concerned about me. She knows how hot it must get inside this little bungalow, especially in the afternoon sun. On days that the temperatures go into the 90's, she sets up a garden hose to spray mist around the condo.

She remembered a visit to Las Vegas one summer when it was too hot to breathe. Many of the resorts had cool mists blowing out at the entryways. It made it much more comfortable to wait outside for a taxi. I guess she figures misting my house will lower the temperature a few degrees.

I must say, it has been more tolerable. I can stick my head outside the door, open my beak, and feel the spray on my face.

Our landlord is so good to us. First the veranda, now the cool mist. Maybe she'll add some additional condos for next season. If she does, we'll sure have to tell our friends about this place.

I wish you could see Mister Blue dive-bombing that chipmunk over there. He's very selective about who gets to hang around the neighborhood.

I figure I have about 10 or 11 more days to go. Stay tuned!

Next: Bonnie Blue names the babies.

The Bluebird Diaries - Chapter 2

The neighborhood is quickly becoming a din of cheeps and twitters. Fledglings are in the trees and on the feeders, noisily calling for their parents to "feed me first!"

The Titmouse family seems to have produced the most babies. My goodness, they are everywhere! There are also many Finch fledglings - both purple finches and gold finches. Mister Blue and I are happy to note some Chickadee fledglings after the unfortunate demise of our bungalow's previous residents.

Now that our nest is decorated just the way I like it, it's time for me to get busy.

While Mister Blue tends to the fledglings from our last brood, I spend the morning in the bungalow. Those little guys do miss their mama, though.

One morning I had a visit from Blue Chip. He couldn't figure out how to navigate our veranda, since his nest was without one. It was just as well. I didn't really care to address his issues at the same time I was concentrating on egg-laying!

I shooed him on back to his dad.

Mister Blue checks on me throughout the morning. He is very attentive like that.

Sometimes we talk about names for the babies. I'm thinking maybe Jackie Blue or Blue Jean or maybe Blue Belle.

"How about Blue Lagoon?" Mister suggested.

You know, I didn't even dignify that one with a response.

No baby of mine will be called Blue Lagoon.

Finally, our first egg arrived! Isn't it just the cutest thing you've ever seen?

I will lay an egg every morning until the entire clutch is laid - usually 3 to 5 eggs. Since this one is blue, they will all be blue. The presence of an odd-colored egg might indicate that some other bird has dumped her egg in my nest! We won't be having any of that.

Next: The days get long and hot.

The Bluebird Diaries - Chapter 1

Mister Blue put some pine straw in the bungalow to show me how nicely it matched the interior decor. He left a little at the front door as a doormat. Works well, don't you think?


I decided that the condo he selected would indeed be acceptable, and I began to build the nest.

Not an easy task, let me tell you.

"Need any help?" Mister wanted to know. He is a thoughtful fellow.

"Oh no," I said, "thanks all the same." Men just don't know the intricacies of tucking in the bed sheet corners. They'd just stuff 'em under any old way. There is an art to it.


The neighborhood had an ample supply of pine needles, grass, and weeds. I had no trouble collecting all I needed.

Mister would check in on me from time to time, offering suggestions on where to position the furniture. I ususally just nodded my head politely, and put things where I originally intended.

By the end of the afternoon, I pretty much had things where I wanted them.


We had a well constructed nest with just the right amount of depth, width, and space from the front door. Mister and I both thought it would make a good place for our next brood.

Mister fairly twittered as he surveyed the yard, "Bonnie Blue, you've done it again. This is a fine nest indeed. As long as we can keep those pesky wrens and house sparrows away, we'll soon have another healthy lot of babies."


I reminded him that we still had a healthy lot of teenagers waiting back home at the other apartment. We needed to be getting back before they had time to invite all their friends over for a wild party.

Next: Mister Blue stands guard.

The Bluebird Diaries - Prologue

We looked for a suitable place for sometime. About three weeks ago, Mister Blue came to me and said, "Bonnie Blue, do you want the good news first or the bad news first?"

I said, "The good news." I am an optomist.

Mister told me he found the most delightful little bungalow with a great view over a yard chock full of bugs. There is water and food close by. The neighborhood was already full of kids, and many of the families live there year round because of the many restaurants available just around the corner.

Why, it did sound perfect! I usually worry about Mister being the one to scout out living quarters for us; he just has no sense of decorating, y'know. I, myself, like the rustic decor. All he likes is a roof that doesn't leak. But it did sound like he had done pretty well this time.

"So," I asked, "what's the bad news?"

"It was occupied."

Apparently, a pair of chickadees laid claim to the condo as soon as it went up, and they were right territorial about it. When Mister stopped by to check it out, they went into a tizzy, making all sorts of racket.

We were back to square one. Time was running short, too. As luck would have it -at least it was good luck for us- within a week, the condo became available again.

Sadly, the luck wasn't so good for the chickadees. Sometime overnight, something happened to the brood. One day, the babies were being noisy as babies will be. The next day, there was only silence. Only their dad remained nearby. One baby was found in the yard next door; two babies were still in the nest. All three had gone to the trees of the Great Phoenix in the sky. There was no sign of the mother.

Understandably, Mister and I were dubious about the neighborhood after that. We couldn't raise our children in an area that was unsafe. Who would've thought such dangers lurked in such a pleasant setting? Fortunately, the landlord realized this and took action.

The day after the unfortunate chickadee incident, we noticed a new addition to the little bungalow. A veranda! We've never had a porch on a condo before. This one was open-aired and allowed for one of us to perch on the roof and look behind, while the other perches on the veranda and surveys ahead. What a nice addition! It added more security to the inside of the place, too.

Not only that, a new deli opened up right next door. Its specialty was meal worms! We had indeed found the perfect place! At last we could get to work.






Next: Mister Blue and Bonnie Blue choose furniture.

Sweet Potato Queens

I know now what I want to be when I grow up.

A Sweet Potato Queen.

If you haven't read Jill Connor Browne's books, you are missing something. I suggest you begin at the beginning with "The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love." This will pretty much explain why I feel I would make a right good Tammy. Subsequent books are titled: "God Save the Sweet Potato Queens," "The Sweet Potato Queens' Big A-- Cookbook and Financial Planner," "The Sweet Potato Queens' Field Guide to Men," and the newest, "The Sweet Potato Queens Wedding Planner/Divorce Guide."

I have quite a few friends who would make good Tammys as well. But I think we'll be Trixies instead. Tammy is getting to be so overused.

Trixie Sue probably has the best Sweet Potato Queen attitude of us all. In fact she's the very one who got me started. She even talks like a Sweet Potato Queen, and Trixie Sue is quick on her feet. Let me tell you, she can spit out those one-liners faster than I can even think of a paragraph.

If you want someone who can tell a funny story with a straight face and have you holding your sides from laughing so hard, it would be Trixie Jo. Some people just have a knack for doing that, you know? They can take a simple, boring bunch of facts and spin it into something hilarious. Laughter is the balm of life. We always need someone around who can rub it on.

Once you read the book, you'll know how important it is for Sweet Potato Queens to enjoy dancing. A couple of my friends are very skilled at this. Trixie Jean has more rhythm in her little finger than most white folks have in their whole gene pool. She's bouncing as soon as the music starts - and we're talking any kind of music, here. I can't swear to it, but I'd wager Trixie Jean boogies down to elevator music when she's riding solo.

My friend, Trixie Lu, loves to dance, too. But then, she's Italian. We get invited to various family affairs at their house. It doesn't matter what might be happening at any given moment, but when the CD starts playing "That's Amore" everyone stops and joins in. It's great.

And my friend, Trixie Moe, has air guitar down to a tee. I even have videos to prove it!

Even though Trixie Jane moved to Texas, she would make a good member of our Sweet Potato Queen court. She can really throw a party! Once you get a few drinks in her, she could probably rival Trixie Jo with story-telling.

Trixie Ann already has big hair. Plus she has a new convertible that we could all ride in. I wish she'd bought a red one instead of a white one. It would make sitting on the back and doing the parade wave much more eye-catching. (Come to think of it, Trixie Sue has a convertible, too, albeit another white one. I have a pewter one, but it only seats two people.) We'd have to enlist a number of Official Consorts to the Queens (like the originals' Lance Romance) to drive these convertibles, so that all the Queens could sit on the back and wave.

Sweet Potato Queens are queens for life. They never have to give back the tiara, and they finally get those majorette boots that we all wanted when we were little. I don't mean to brag, but I actually DID get white majorette boots to go along with my majorette costume one Christmas. As a matter of fact, I also got a tiara one birthday. And I have photos to prove both these facts. Yet another reason why I think I would make such a great Sweet Potato Queen.

The Queens originated in Jackson, Mississippi. (My nephew once lived in Jackson, Mississippi !!). They get to ride on a float every year in the St. Patrick's Day Parade. I regret to say that I never got to ride on a float. I always wanted to, but I was never selected to ride on one. This has probably scarred me for life, but I try not to let it affect my personality.

In one chapter, Jill Connor Browne talks about the Neshoba County Fair which is held each year near Philadelphia, Mississippi. (My niece and her family go there, too!! I've heard her talk about how much fun it is!) It just confirms my destiny when I read about all the things I have in common with the original queens.

My family in Alabama are the closest things to Sweet Potato Queens that I've ever met personally. This is because they participate BIG TIME in Mardis Gras. I could add them to my Sweet Potato Queen court - they would make good Trixies with their attitudes, and they have plenty of experience riding on floats and wearing garish clothing. But is this fair? I mean - they get to ride on a float every year without even having to be a Sweet Potato Queen.

The Alabama Trixies do love to dance, and they are good at karaoke. (They would do these things even if they weren't any good at it - it's just the way they are.) They throw good parties, too. Even after a hurricane washes away the hot tub and landscaping, they'll just hose off the porch and put boards down so that guests don't have to traipse through the mud from their car to the house. Plus Trixie Win has a lot of potential Sweet Potato Queen friends, and Trixie May already has red hair. I guess we'll include them and Trixie Kay. I don't get to see her a lot, but I suspect there is some definite devilment in there.

Same goes for my friend, Trixie Ella. She, too, has a convertible, and hers is red! She, too, knows how to put on a spread. She could probably put together our corsages from what she grows in her greenhouse. She's very talented that way.

There are other Trixies who would definitely add to the spice of our Sweet Potato Queen Court. There are probably even a number of Wannabes. I suspect we could cause quite a stir if we tried just a little.

And that's what I, Trixie Dawn, want to be when I grow up.