English Department Professor, Ira Sukrungruang, has published his essay “Nesting” in the March issue of The Sun. He describes his obsession with his new feathered tenants as a means of coping during the pandemic.
“They come during the first week of quarantine, flitting from fence post to fence post, hovering around a decorative hollow gourd my wife hung with no thought that birds might make it a home. It’s a gift someone gave her in a time before we met, in a prior life Deedra calls a “fifteen-year mistake.” She’s never cared for the gourd’s pear-like shape or the sunflower drawn on its surface, but it made its way across the country, the way lots of useless things did, to our new home in a new state.
My wife at the kitchen window says in a shrill voice, “There’s something blue, something blue!” I am playing stuffed-animal hospital with Bodhi, our three-year-old son, who has brought an injured giraffe to me, the doctor, to heal. Hearing his mother’s excitement, Bodhi runs to her legs — “Where? Where?” — and bounces up and down until she picks him up and points out the window.
I think they’re probably blue jays: loud, obnoxious, and common in Ohio. “Probably blue jays,” I say. “They’re loud, obnoxious, and common in Ohio.”
But they aren’t.
Bluebirds. Two of them. A male and a female. Each on its own perch, surveying the small gourd like newlyweds who’ve found the perfect home.”