Friday, June 22, 2012

Say, Little Wren

courtesy of
One of the best things about my tiny yard, with its varied trees and hedges and wildflower sprawl amidst gardens and raised beds, is the diversity of wildlife that I find.  A couple summers ago, I had a pair of Pileated woodpeckers nesting in my 100 year old white pines.  A collection of finches calls the tops of the spruces home, while the robins are sharing accommodations in the pines with a downy woodpecker or two.  The local pheasants come early in the morning to rootle around in my wildflower hill, which the dogs find wonderfully exciting, and have to tell the neighborhood about in loud barky conversations.

This year, I have at least two pairs of wrens nesting: one family is occupying the Copa Cabana birdhouse on the back fence, and another is somewhere high up in the leafy jungle of the box elders.  They have taken to scolding me vigorously whenever I am out in the garden, whether I am near their nests or not.  Brrrr--chick-chick-chick-chick--brrrrrtttt!  It's like being the only Yankee fan in Fenway Park, constant razzing and hissing and booing.  This morning,  I was checking out the state of the currants (nearly ready to pick already, which is two weeks ahead of schedule!) when I swear, one of the bold wrens attempted to poo right on my head.  ON MY HEAD. 

I thought only monkeys flung poo.

After I am outside for a while, and the little parents realized that I am not going to waltz over and eat their babies, they calm down and put on a wonderful show.  Diving and zooming all over the yard, hopping in amongst the brocolli and cabbages to snatch up wriggling green worms and bits of beetle, and then back again quick as wink to a suddenly loud nest.  The babies are silent once the parent departs, but the moment they reappear it is all shrieks of hunger and moans of distress when there aren't enough treats to go around.  Back and forth, the parents fly all day, pausing only to scold me, or one of the dogs, or a chicken who is clucking about having laid an egg.  The wrens aren't impressed with just eggs, for goodness' sake.  They have a whole clutch of babies, and can't be distracted by some silly hen clucking away about tomorrow's breakfast.

A wren's work is never done, and certainly never dull.

1 comment:

  1. We have bluebirds and they may be in the one nest box, we have Martins in the barn but the nest came down, not enough mud or poop or whatever it is holding it up there! The Martin almost took my head off!


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