wrens Archives - NorthStarNature

I love this time of year! After a bare, white and gray winter, the greenness seems amazing to my eyes. From one year to the next I forget how many of our flowers bloom in May. The colors, shapes, and fragrances are delightful to the senses. This location we call home suits us well right now amidst the trees, among the flowers, and along with the wild creatures.

In a bird’s world, our yard and woods are a pretty good location to set up house, also. There are eight pre-made houses to choose from, trees of all sorts in which to build a nest, a river nearby and various bird baths for water and bathing, and an endless supply of insects, seeds, and nesting material. Unfortunately, in the bird real estate business, we have a tenacious bully. The House Wren is an aggressive competitor for nests and will destroy eggs and young of other birds in order to take over that nesting spot. Wrens are tiny birds, about five inches from head to tail, weighing only as much as two quarters. Their exuberant, gurgling song is loud and persistent. The Wrens show up a couple of weeks after the Bluebirds, who have already staked out the location that suits them best. Wrens are the main source of nest failure in some areas for Bluebirds, Tree Swallows and Chickadees, but we witnessed some bold resistance to the real estate bully. One of the wren houses hangs from the maple tree outside our dining room, and we happened to see a flurry of bird activity around the little house. A male Bluebird chased the Wren into the house, then perched on the roof, seemingly daring him to come out again.

Then he even peered into the house.

Eventually the Bluebird left to attend to his own nest, and the Wren cautiously popped out of the house onto the ‘porch.’

A minute later, another flurry of wings–this time from a Tree Swallow defending its nest from the scalawag.

The male Wren will find a number of nesting spots and add twigs to them when he first stakes out his territory; later the courted female will inspect the nesting spots. With all the negative reinforcement to stealing the others’ nests, the Wrens decided to build their nest in their hide-away place. Both busy Wrens gathered twigs to add to the nest.

The ground below the house is scattered with small sticks that didn’t quite make it to the inside.

One of the most interesting nest-building practices of the House Wren is adding a spider egg sac to the final nesting materials. It is speculated that after hatching, the young spiders eat any mites or parasites that tend to invade the nest when the young birds inhabit it. Once the Wrens lay their eggs, the real estate battle abruptly ends; meanwhile, the Bluebird stands watch.

I’ve lived in a number of locations in four different states during my life so far. Two of those states are birthplaces—mine and Chris’ and the kids’, which make them inherently special. Each place also has a unique culture—Scandinavian, Pennsylvania Dutch, crossroads of America diversity, and German Catholic. Each location has a beautiful ecosystem—prairie, foothills, rolling farm country, and lakes and woods. Truthfully, I have loved them all. Sometimes it’s not so much living in a place that suits us well but rather to become who we are supposed to be. And places, cultures, ecosystems, and the people we meet there help us to do that. We learn to attend to our own nests, to defend the things we hold dear, to stand up to bullies, and to watch over this beautiful, green Earth.

Early Tuesday morning I heard a soft thump on our open window. Even before getting out of bed to look, I knew a bird had flown into the reflective glass. It happens often. Sometimes it is the demise of the little creature; other times they can shake off the shock and fly on. A tiny fledgling wren was crumpled in the river rock by the sedum. He had just left the nest in the wren house that was hanging from a maple branch about fifteen feet from our bedroom window. In a few minutes, he scurried under the hosta plant for cover–on his own in the big world. The morning mayhem had already begun with the parent wrens working hard to feed their hungry brood–a noisy time! Except this morning was different–it was a good day to fly!

So instead of bringing food for the clamorous, hungry babies, the mama and papa wren flew to the house ‘talking’ encouragement to their young ones, then flying away again.

Mama wren would fly to the house, then to the roof, then to branches above the house, all the while chattering to her young ones. The baby at the opening was making just as much noise–constantly wondering why he wasn’t getting fed as usual.

After more than two hours of this flying-day frenzy, I saw the mama bring food to the baby. Some food and rest were in store after all that hard work. They would try again another time.

At noon that day, I heard our black lab burst from inside the house onto the screened-in porch with an urgent bark–the kind that means something is out there! I looked out the back window and saw turkeys flying and running from the loud, startling threat. One adult sentry of the posse of turkeys calmly surveyed the scene, then walked into the woods, while the others looked down from their secure perches in the oak trees.

With the dog safely contained in the house and no longer barking, the turkeys cautiously left their perches, floating down to the ground like tiny brown parachutes.

Baby flyer training for the wrens began again early the next morning. The chatter was loud and nonstop. The fledgling was much more determined due to hunger or instinct or increased confidence. Though it took many tries and much prompting from mama wren, baby number two soon took the leap!

Next flyer on deck!

This time mama wren brought some enticement but flew away without feeding it to the baby.

‘Dang! I guess I’ll have to get out of here to get that tasty morsel of food.’

Baby wren number four followed suit and cautiously dropped to the ‘porch’ of the house.

‘Your turn. If I can do it, you can do it, too!’

‘Where’d she go?’

And finally, mama wren flew to the branch above the house, and the last baby followed her into the maple canopy.

Empty nest. Empty house. Quiet.

Sometimes with all the best intentions and timing and encouragement, we try new things but don’t succeed. We rest and re-group and try again. Sometimes, like the turkeys, we are forced to fly. Scary things happen, and we fly to save our lives. Hunger for a better life, frustration with the status quo, enticements that feed our body and soul, encouragement from others who have gone before us, and the positive peer pressure that makes us take the leap combine with our innate cycle of change and development to make it a good day to fly.

Location, Location, Location

A Good Day to Fly

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