12/20/2025
Every spring for as long as I can remember we have a bluebird get trapped in our woodstove. Every spring one of us (usually me) will rescue the bird. You would think by now that we would have a tried and true method, but we don't. Most of the time it's an ordeal. It's always try to seal off the opening of the stove and that typically results in the bird escaping and flying around until it tires and eventually surrenders to a towel or net as a vehicle to freedom. Most of the time it feels like the bird is trying to hijack it's own rescue by constantly flying away from a helping hand. Once I have the bird outside it usually takes a while for the shock to wear off, and I watch the bird collect itself and get it's navigation instincts in check. Although birds in the house are typically associated with bad omens, it is ALWAYS a bluebird, and since bluebirds are symbolic for happiness, I've deemed the annual rescue as the RESCUING MY OWN HAPPINESS event. I've thrown away the superstition and opted for it to be a nod from the universe. This annual event always make me take pause and reflect on what I am doing to be happy. I allow nature to remind me of the existential questions of life.
Today, on close to the calendar watermark of winter I heard a fluttering in the stove pipes, and sure enough after a few hours of stuggle she made her way down to the stove. I opened the stove just a crack expecting to see a finch or chickadee since I would expect a bluebird to be further down the mason dixon line by now. But no...there she was, the harbinger of happiness and joy looking tired, dusty, defeated, grounded and not happy at all. I put my experience to work, closed any interior doors opened exterior exits cover the stove with a fitted sheet grabbed a soft towel and slowly opened the door. She sat perched in the corner legs locked on the fire bricks. She didn't move. I said ok, will you let me help you? I attempted to grab her but my grasp was too light. She moved to the front corner of the stove, I thought oh boy here we go...again I asked...will you let me help you?
I reached in again, she let me slowly and gently wrap my hand around her. I carefully pulled her out of th