My husband put up three blue bird houses to lure them away from the purple martin house. The "rest of the story" is told in the poem, "Fickle Lady."
Out in the open on a very tall pole, sunk into cement - an expensive birdhouse, designed for Purple Martins. Mister Bluebird sits atop the house, guarding, watching, while his lady works, building her nest. His presence causes the Purple Martins to pass on by, seeking another place to build. Twelve compartments, eleven of them empty except for wisps of straw placed in each, warning - this house is taken!
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