I think I saw the Bluebird of Happiness, while paddling on Poirier Lake.
Maybe it was the kingfisher that fluttered out of the trees and swooped low over the water, stooping for a fish. Its big beak is as wide as a grin.
Maybe it was the Steller's Jay that perched in a spruce near where I was marveling at the pedal boats tied up at one dock, and the inflatable lounging raft at another. That blue flicker is brightest in a sunbeam. We don't get mountain bluebirds here, and bluejays are rare.
It might have been one of the blue dragonflies that darted around catching mosquitoes and swirling in pairs. Not sure how big the Bluebird of Happiness is supposed to be. It could be very little.
But when I came along the north shore of the lake as I did a couple of circuits with and against the breeze, as I got closer to the fishing dock there were two fishing lines coming out from behind the bushes along the shore. Gossamer in the sunbeams, the lines moved as unseen hands tugged on them. The sight of them pulled on my heart as if the hooks had set into my own flesh. I came round that shore, swinging wide to avoid crowding the lines or chasing any nearby fish, and saw my partner and our son standing in the shadows on the fishing dock. There was my spouse in faded denim and gray and our son disappearing into the woods in dark colours and khaki. Their strong hands pulled on the lines and I had to look away or the Bluebird was going to pull just a little harder on my heart than I could handle. The kayak bobbed under me and I went to listen to the music playing at the other end of the little lake. "Oh my my, oh hell yes..."