After eight years of nesting wrens, the bluebird house has finally been settled into by a nesting pair of, well, bluebirds. In early spring we’d seen at one time five of them together at the feeder. Not to feed, but rather obviously looking at it as a home (they’ve done this every year to my frustration). Stymied by the lack of entryway, they left. I take their sudden recognition of the real house as a good sign. You know, the old "bluebird of happiness" thing.
Anything, anything to make the scourge of the last few years appear to turn around. Of course by now, the weathered house could use a little fix-up but duct tape to close the bottom split so that no eggs can roll out may be about all we’ll dare to venture rather than take the chance of frightening them away.