There's a bluebird on my shoulder...

In the last house where we started our farm, we had a bluebird that would come to the living room window, attach itself to the screen on the outside, and chirrip and whistle and try as hard as it could to get someone's attention. It was the strangest thing. It did this all spring and summer one year. I would whistle to it as best I could, pretending to myself that it could decipher my off-key notes of curiosity and friendship. Bluebirds were everywhere on this last piece of land, thanks to the thoughtful owners who had put up houses for them. But this one male was particularly special. He would begin the day on a telephone wire that stretched above our kitchen window, all fluffed up with head slightly burrowed, eying the land and its offerings, then he would gracefully dip down onto the grass and peck around for some breakfast---only to return at some point to say hello at the living room window. I had a dream one night that a bluebird and I were whistling back and forth, back and forth, until eventually it landed upon my hands and then it turned into light. Hence the name, Bluebird Meadows.
We're trying to establish a thriving community of our little mascots on the farm. We've put up one house that I found at the thrift store, and we have big plans to spend a day or a half day building maybe twenty or so houses we can put all over the land. I've read the houses need to be on a post (the birds don't like their houses on a tree), two hundred feet apart (for territorial reasons), and facing south, southeast. We have already spied a few bluebirds checking out the nest to see if it fits their taste. We heard from a friend they won't nest in it until mid-March, but we're hoping they have already laid claim.