A bluebird shone on a glistening fence-rail, like a jewel on a turned hand.
It was spring indeed—bluebirds in the air, and all the sky shone clear and warm.
The bluebirds came close to sing to him and so did the red-breasted robins.
Two of these birds that I knew were orioles and two were bluebirds.
On it shone the plumage of the bluebird of illusions.
The bluebirds are now dead, stuffed with particulates and lead, but the vision remains the same.
Because of the high level of competition, house sparrows often attack western bluebirds for their nests.