Bluebird Grace: A Story of Love, Loss, and Life on the Farm

They returned just as they did the year before—this little pair of bluebirds, bright flashes of sky darting through the juniper and sage. Last spring, they built their nest 🪺 in a gourd on top of a post, carefully layering grasses with such care and unity that it felt like a tiny act of devotion to witness. We watched them raise two clutches then, and this year, they came back. Same spot, same gentle rhythm—building, brooding, nurturing.

Together, they worked as one. She laid her eggs and kept them warm in the spring wind while he brought her food and sang his low, sweet call from the trees. When the eggs hatched, both parents tirelessly tended the nest—tiny beaks opening wide, new life chirping out into the world.

Then something shifted.

About a week before the fledglings were ready to take flight, we found her. A coyote must’ve come through in the early hours. The loss hit hard—this small mother bird, gone in an instant, her work and devotion cut short. We shed tears of sorrow. Nature doesn’t offer explanations, only movement. The wind blew through the sagebrush like a sigh that morning.

But her mate didn’t leave. He stayed.

He worked harder than ever, bringing food over and over to his growing babies, fluttering in and out, calling softly to them, keeping them warm in the night chill. Bluebirds mate for life, and he honored that bond not just with grief, but with grit. It was humbling to watch—this tiny creature carrying on, determined to see her legacy live.

We kept our dogs on leash in anticipation of the littles moving to the ground.  And then yesterday afternoon, it happened. The three young ones descended from the nest, wings shaky, eyes wide. The sky opened with a soft summer rain. As we stepped outside, we found them huddled on the back of our porch chairs—wobbly, wet, and utterly perfect. Their proud Papa perched above, keeping watch as the rain fell in silver streaks. 

And then, as if the world itself wanted to mark the moment, a brilliant rainbow arched across the sky. A quiet grace settled over everything.

Now, as night falls, they remain there—shoulder to shoulder on the porch, feathers puffed, sheltered, and safe. We leave the light off. We walk gently.

The circle of life is not always gentle, but today it was tender. Today it held love and heartbreak and resilience. And three little bluebirds 🐦🐦🐦, sleeping under a rainbow 🌈💙