Western Maine is a low key, laid back sort of place, not flashy or full of itself. But these three birds seem to have escaped from exotic lands, flaunting their azure plumage in our Northern forests.
My first is (I think) an Eastern Bluebird, because he had a rusty belly when he flew up into a tree:
I do concede however, that I could be wrong: maybe he too is …. ..the same as my next bird.
My second is a male Indigo Bunting, Passerina cyanea, singing from the treetops on June 9th. This is completely typical: they sing from the highest point they can find, all summer.
There is a recoding and rather a good description of their song and how they learn it here:
I am so pleased someone named it the Indigo Bunting instead of the Blue Bunting: how often do you get to use the word indigo, unless you are reciting the colors of the rainbow, or are into natural dyes. And its Latin name is cyanea, after another great color word, cyan! When they are just fledged, the blue just peaks through their beige feathers, but this week this teenager was on the same tree that his father liked, two months ago, so I can be confident of its identity.
My third is the American Bluejay, Cyanocitta cristata, noisy, arrogant, and a year-round resident up here.
He has a fine crest, not raised in this photo.
One last blue vision: a wild native Blue Flag Iris, Iris versicolor. There was a big clump in the swampy area at the edge of my beaver pond on June 10th, and although they are purplish blue, I consider them as qualifying for this post by virtue of their name:
Look close, and marvel:
For me, these birds and flowers are a cure for the blues.