A few years ago (about 8), Brian was cleaning the cover for our porch lamp. It's a mission style light with glass panels. One slipped and broke, so we pointed it toward the wall where it was hard to see and didn't pay any more attention to it.
Well, it seems that a pair of Eastern Phoebe's decided it was the perfect nesting box for them. Over the years, they have come back at spring like clockwork to raise one to two families. While occasionally 'cute', the tracks of bird poop when the babies are taught to fly is annoying.
This year, we fixed the light. We kind of like to use it. Which we can't do for fear of baking the birds, or blinding them as they bolt out.
Yesterday, with the pretty sun and warming weather, I had the front door open. And that when I heard them. They came back and were so very confused. They fluttered at the door, perching on the pentagram wreath on the wall and on the gutter and lights. All the time calling in their very distinct Phoebe voice. "fee-bee, fee-bee, fee-bee"
My heart went to mush. I told Brian I felt like a monster. They kept coming up to the door and fluttering. He told me that they'd move on shortly. This was about 2 pm. When he got home about 6:30, he went to the door as we were talking about it and one of the phoebe's was just coming in for another look and they sort of startled each other. Brian went out and took out the barrier, allowing them access again.
About an hour later, he went to look, and sure enough, they were moving in.
Next year, we build them a nesting box.