Now if this doesn't make you want to be a mama...
It's our third spring in Hopkinsville, and our third family of bluebirds. Babies can only hold their big heads up on those spindly necks for so long. When I first open the box, all the heads pop up and the faintest wisp of a whistle comes out of the open beaks. Then, one by one, they give in to gravity and flop back into a restful heap.
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