One February morning, my bouncy setter and I went out for our early walk and paused on the step to note the crisp 15-degree air and bright snow-reflected sun. Then we both turned our heads to an uncommon sound in the distance–the twittering of bluebirds! The flash of their wings across the field caught my eye, and I focused my binoculars as Skyler strained at her leash. Two pairs of Eastern Bluebirds were fluttering around a pair of nest boxes. As we got closer I paused to look again. What were they doing? Could they be thinking of nesting this early? Had they spent the cold night in one of my nest boxes? Didn't those boxes contain old nests? Might there also be edible insects inside? I wondered these things casually as we walked. I'm not a scientist, but I am curious. As a participant in the Cornell Nest Box Network (CNBN), I'm called a "citizen scientist."

When we moved from the suburbs to this old farm nine years ago, we were eager to see what lived here and what more we could attract. Even when we lived at the edge of a major city, birds nested in our yard. This hillside of rocky, abandoned cornfields and scrubby hedgerows has revealed a rich variety of birds and other animals. For closer viewing, the porch ledges often shelter phoebes and House Finches, and Barn Swallows hang their mud nests in the barn rafters. In addition, we've been putting up nest boxes, a few each year, and keeping an eye on their occupants. The rough pine boxes, built from kits or purchased from youth groups, mounted on metal posts, get little maintenance beyond an annual straightening. Mice have to be coaxed out in the spring, and "No Hunting" signs hang on them in the fall. We have 16 boxes now, and they host a fascinating parade of Tree Swallows, House Wrens, House Sparrows, and Eastern Bluebirds.

The nest boxes have become part of our landscape, dotting the edges of field and lawn. We've worn a system of circular trails along these field edges, which the dog and I patrol before and after work in every kind of weather (at her insistence). We've mowed the hillside to keep most of the fields open. Each day, in all seasons, we make new discoveries on our walks. Back at the house, I kick off my boots and jot my sightings on the calendar, especially new arrivals. A pile of field guides always litters the kitchen table, because my observations tend to lead to questions. It's just a hobby.

In the warmer months, my pockets hold pencil and paper. It's exciting to see the spring arrival of each bird and to watch the nest-site selection process. When the activity heats up, I have to take notes to remember which box holds what! This is the part I like to report to CNBN. Last year I watched as the early bluebirds began building nests, and then I saw them get chased away when the Tree Swallows arrived. House Sparrows gave the swallows fierce competition, and that was also frustrating to witness. But just in time, an influx of House Wrens arrived and displaced the sparrows. I watched the wrens and swallows from a respectful distance. Several nests of each were successful, but because I was too timid to brave their sometimes aggressive defenses, I missed out on the details. This year I hope to try another CNBN activity by offering feathers to the swallows, so that I will become more comfortable with these
spirited birds.

We left for vacation last summer just as all of the chicks were maturing in tree, field, and nest box, and things were pretty quiet when we returned. But on my first walk up the hill, I heard bluebirds. They had returned to a nest box recently vacated by Tree Swallows and had three eggs. Skyler and I checked that box every morning for a few weeks, on our way up the hill. The mother usually flew from the box as we approached, so it was easy to peek in and monitor the progress. I worried over the health of the nestlings on hot days. I noted how the parents worked to bring them food, sharing the duties. On a warm August evening, we were watching as the third fledgling burst from the box and flew awkwardly into an apple tree, where the rest of the family was noisily waiting. Now, I wonder if they will return this year.