Of Wasps and Wrens

A paper wasp's nest on our front porch serves two purposes. Last summer, when we learned that a nest might deter mud daubers from building in the same area, I remembered that we had one somewhere. A search in the shop located it, high on a shelf, under a coating of dust. Blowing it off, I found a beautiful nest, constructed from layers of fragile insect-made paper, designed with wavy lines of browns and grays. It was attached to a branch, which made it feasible to string it up and tie it to the porch. It kept the mud daubers at bay for months. When they started coming back, I moved it a few feet, and it worked again.

After the nest had been in place for a few weeks, I noticed a hole near the top. Over the next few days, the hole grew until it was perfectly round and about the size of a small bird.

I was at the kitchen sink, looking out the window when I discovered the second purpose for the wasp's nest. A Carolina Wren flew to the nest and ducked inside the newly carved entrance hole. When he reappeared moments later and perched in the doorway, he seemed quite pleased with himself. After he flew away, I got a ladder and flashlight and peered inside. There I found a nest within a nest, built to Carolina Wren specifications with a tunnel just inside the front opening.

All winter, a pair of Carolina Wrens frequented our front porch, eating the dried mealworms we put out for them. In harsh winters, supplemental food can make a difference in their survival. Our motives, however, are not entirely altruistic. We just like to watch them.

What is it that so captivates us with Carolina Wrens? On pogo stick legs, their movements are quick and unpredictable, like chipmunks with wings. With their tails held high over their rounded frames, they nearly always seem happy.

We love it, too, that they are not afraid to build their nest near people's dwellings where we can observe them up close. But what fascinates us most is the male's melodious voice, like a young American Idol star. Whatever the reason, they always make us smile. And that's worth a lot.

A couple of months ago, the male wren brought his mate over to show off his construction. A male wren will build nests at more than one location, and the conventional wisdom is that he takes the female on a tour of his homes and lets her choose which one she likes. I thought he'd been using all his persuasive powers in favor of the wasp's nest. "Look at all these worms," he said, and "where else could you find this kind of craftsmanship?" Maybe he wasn't as persuasive as I thought he was, because they ended up raising 5 little ones in the old fish basket on the front porch, where they've nested the past several years. Now they're using the paper wasp's nest as a second home. Considering how fast the fledglings are growing, it's a good thing they have it. It's tattered by now, and it isn't going to fool the mud daubers much longer, but the birds still like it. The little ones pop in and out of their summer home like the privileged creatures they are.

Fledge Day

It's quiet on the front porch this afternoon, and a little bit lonely, after the clamor of the morning. A pair of Carolina Wrens have been nesting in a creel that hangs from one of the porch pillars, and lately, they have been scrambling to keep their nestlings fed.

My first indication that this might be Fledge Day was an aerial scuffle over the patio. A Phoebe, who is also nesting on the porch, landed on the watering can, and the two smaller birds teamed up to chase it away. Up til now, the Phoebes had been getting the upper hand in those skirmishes, but on this day the Carolina Wrens wanted to clear the runways for take-offs and landings.

This morning both of the wrens were on the basket, peering down the opening, coaxing their nestlings to come out. The Carolina Wren has a beautiful voice, and it must be very persuasive because it wasn't long before the first brave adventurer popped out to greet the world. It looked around, wide-eyed. With its short, stubby tail and wispy tufts of new feathers topping its head and sticking out from the back of its neck, it looked a little bit like an alien. One sibling joined him, then another and then a third, before the first one tried out its wings. I held my breath. The fledgling fluttered unsteadily to the woodpile on one the end of the porch where the others joined him. Between crash landings, they practiced hops from log to log... 

hid in an old egg basket... 

and clung to the rock siding, all the while, emitting a constant chatter. But there were still chirps coming from the basket, and finally, a fifth tardy bird emerged. 

They left one by one within about 20 minutes, winging their way along the side of the house as if they'd been practicing for days. I went outside later and heard their chirps coming from under the dog house, and saw one of the parents swoop in with food. This vast world can be intimidating. 

We'll be keeping our ears and eyes open, and hoping they'll return for another nesting. Now, at least, the Phoebes can have their perch back.

Wrens and Raspberries

This morning, fog obscures the lake and emboldens bucks to venture near the house. When they retreat into the woods, I step outside. In the garden, there's the daily Japanese Beetle battle. They are eating lacy holes in the raspberry leaves, and I dunk 23 of them, still groggy, in alcohol. It's not a job I relish, but I love raspberries. Under the nearby trees is a fallen branch, and I head over to pick it up, dodging dew-laden spider webs like laser beams in Mission Impossible. In the distance, a Carolina Wren sings his aria, and I anticipate the coming days.

For 3 days last week, a pair of wrens were busy constructing a nest in the old fish basket outside our kitchen window. The creel has been home to these birds in the past, in fact, it was originally hung on the front porch pillar in hopes of attracting them, but the last time they nested there was 5 years ago. It's good to have them back.

For hours, they met each other every few minutes coming and going with twigs and leaves. They would duck into the basket, forming the nest out of sight, and then fly away to gather more nesting materials.

Years ago, I was sitting on the porch when the wrens fledged, and one of the fledglings flew to my lap, to the consternation of its watching parents. These wrens have a rich, beautiful song, but that day they chattered their disapproval until the little one flew away to join its siblings.          

It's been quiet on the porch this week, and I was hoping the birds didn't move on to another nest. My curiosity got the best of me this afternoon and I peeked into the doorway on top of the basket. I think I was as startled as the little bird inside. So, now I'll be waiting patiently. More or less. We can only hope, when the nestlings are hatched and hungry, that they like Japanese beetles. I'm hoping for raspberries, too.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Winter Home

A chattering noise drew my attention to the front porch the other day.  

A Carolina Wren peered out from between the logs of the wood pile.

It flitted around the stack of wood looking for some juicy morel to eat, then paused to preen.

Carolina wrens have made themselves at home on our front porch over the years, often raising their young in an old basket that hangs there.  Three years ago, when I hung a sunflower seed head from the porch eves to feed the birds, the titmice cleaned out every seed, but two wrens made their winter shelter in the small cavity in the underside of the seed head.

They came the following winter, and last week, when the weather turned cold, they were back again, flying in at dusk to tuck into their winter home.

It's nice to think of providing shelter for these pert little beauties,

but if we think about property rights,

their forebears were probably here long before we were.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

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Check out my store here, if you like.

You can find find an existing design, personalize it, or make your own,

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We Have Liftoff

Our front porch is quiet this morning after a flurry of activity the past few days. 

 Six small Carolina wrens left the shelter of their nest in the creel 

that hangs from a stone pillar.

Two of them left at dusk Monday evening, 

their dark frames silhouetted against the sky 

as they looked out from their perch on the top of the basket, 

and then from the roof.

The next day, the third fledgling appeared, timidly...

seemingly awed by the new world around him...

and the perils it presented.  

"What if I fall?"

A sibling shored up his confidence...

while the parents kept close watch from nearby.

The last two fledglings made their getaway late in the morning, 

and even tried a little rock climbing before getting accustomed to their wings.

This afternoon, out of habit, I glanced out the front window before stepping outside, 

to be sure the coast was clear, but the front porch was strangely silent.  

In the basket, after the birds had left, one small egg remained.

There were seven eggs, 

and the original contents of six of them have now metamorphosized 

into six new minstrels flying in the forest, 

singing their song.

We're glad that the birds fledged on time for their introduction to 

Wild Bird Wednesday and Camera Critters,

and also on time to wish a Happy Birthday to my good friend, Pat.

Tight Quarters

The dried sunflower on our front porch has seen better days.  The summer before last, it's golden blossom smiled down on the corn and tomatoes in a friend's garden.  When the seeds matured, it came to me as a gift, and I hung it upside-down on our front porch for the birds. Within days, hungry tufted titmice had stripped it of its seeds.

That sunflower had another function, though, my favorite one.  Last winter, every night, two Carolina wrens would tuck into its cavity and sleep the night away.

Summer came; the birds found another place to nest, and the sunflower was consigned to a shelf in the shop.  There, besides providing a few nibbles for a visiting mouse, it gathered dust.

I hung it out again this fall, on the chance of seeing the wrens again.  One evening about a week ago, when I had all but given up, they appeared.  Since then, they've been coming every night shortly after sundown.  They jostle for position before settling in, and by the time we walk Barley, a couple of hours later, all we can see is the tips of their tail feathers, near enough to touch, but we wouldn't dare disturb them.

These two little birds have each other, and a cozy shelter.  At this Christmas season, would that everyone could have the same.

Joy to the world! the Lord has come;

Let earth receive her king;

Let every heart prepare Him room,

 And Heaven and nature sing...



Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas!



Thanks to Kim Klassen for the use of her textures.
Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Babe in the Woods

This tiny Carolina Wren has been visiting our deck recently. 

The little thing is barely out of diapers, 

its stubby tail scarcely protruding from its backside, 

but it can already fend for itself, 

gathering sunflower seeds that the goldfinches spill in their hurry.

Carolina wren

with a voice like a diva

and springs in its feet

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

  

Rural Robbery

Don't let those big innocent looking eyes fool you.  This tufted titmouse is a burglar.  It's possible that he could be excused for robbing insulation from the Carolina wren's winter shelter, as he may not have fully understood the ramifications of his actions, but this week's burglaries were deliberate and premeditated.

We've caught him red-handed on 3 occasions, dipping into the Carolina wren's carefully constructed home in the fish basket and robbing nesting material.  The Carolina wrens haven't been seen for a few days now, and since they are smaller than the titmice, it's just possible that they tucked their tails between their legs and retreated to one of their
alternate home sites.

It's not like there is any lack of nesting material available here; the yard and woods are full of grasses and twigs for any bird willing to look for them.  The titmouse even found the stash of Barley's hair that we put out for the purpose, and carried it off in large fluffy beakfuls.

This week's events shouldn't surprise me.  Those little birds, I know, are opportunists.  While walking in the woods this week I stopped along the trail, and one of them flew close, flitting from branch to branch and and circling around me, chattering all the while.  I may have ventured too close to his nest, but more likely, to my thinking, he was checking out the nesting material on my head.  On 2 occasions in the past, one of these birds has sat on my head and pulled out hair.  No kidding.

We hope the Wrens will be back, even for a second nesting, but what happens next is anybody's guess.

It's a jungle out there.

For bird photos from around the world,
go to World Bird Wednesday.


For exquisite photos of birds to the south of us,
check out this site:
Pasión por las aves.

Job Stress

For the past 5 days, 2 Carolina Wrens have been feverishly working on their nest in a fish basket on our front porch, and by Tuesday, tempers were wearing a bit thin.

One of them flew in with a twig that was longer than the opening of the creel, and instead of turning his head to thread the stick into the basket, the little bird flew at the entrance repeatedly, trying to force it in place.

Finally, the poor wren gave up, dropping the twig over the edge.

Which just goes to show, stress isn't limited to rush hour in the big cities.  It can sneak up on us out here in the country, too.

Moving In

One day last week, a Carolina wren was singing at the top of his lungs, and I went to investigate.  I've read that the male prepares several nesting sites and lets the female choose the one she wants, which seems to be a wise move on his part.

On that particular day, I'm pretty sure he was making his best pitch for the nest he had started in a creel on our front porch.  He must have been pointing out what excellent shelter they would have there, and also the nifty little doorway the fish basket provided.

The porch was quiet for a few days after that, while Mrs. Wren was weighing her options, but it seems her mate's persuasion worked, because Saturday, they started building the nest right where he wanted it.

For 2 days so far, they have made repeated trips early in the morning with materials to make their upcoming family comfortable.  

They came with grass, and straw, and leaves...

...and even a little of Barley's hair.

If this works out, these 2 will be our closest neighbors.

Textures by Kim Klassen.

Thanks, Kim!

R-Factor

The past few days, tufted titmice have been busy stripping sunflower seeds from the seed head hanging upside down on the porch.  They may not know that this action lowers the R-factor in the walls of the interior.

This same seed head serves as a hammock for 2 Carolina wrens, who spend their nights tucked inside the cavity.  Late at night, when I walk Barley, and pass them at eye level, the only thing visible is a clump of back and tail feathers, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

Tonight I walked out on the porch at dusk.  They had just checked in for the night, and one little head peered out at me, unafraid, from her leathery fortress.

Three years ago this past spring, Carolina wrens nested on the front porch, and I was there when they fledged.  As the sweet things took practice flights on the porch, 2 of them landed on my lap and settled down on my well worn blue jeans, while their mother chattered at them from a short distance.  I wonder one of those fledglings might be the same bird now watching me from her night shelter.  And, if she is, I wonder if she's dreaming, on these cold winter nights, of lining her nest with soft blue denim.

Textures by Kim Klassen,
of Texture Tuesday.

Also linking with The Creative Exchange,
Deep Roots at Home,
and World Bird Wednesday.

All These Gifts

Yesterday was balmy, and checking on my absent neighbor's dogs was a good excuse to get outside.  

The sun warmed my face as I sat on a stump and stroked Corby's hair, while high above us vultures traced lazy circles in the sky. When a gust of wind sent leaves crashing to the ground, pint-sized Jazz barked at them. At home, bluebirds made an appearance...

 

...and 2 Carolina Wrens fluttered around the dried sunflower that was hanging under the eves. I imagine they were not as interested in a food source as a future nesting site, since they've been checking out a basket on the porch, too.

In the afternoon, there was laughter in the kitchen as a friend and I peeled apples, trying to peel one in a long spiraling strip, like Mom used to do with her sisters. Later, the aroma of apple pie filled the room as we enjoyed dinner with friends.

Warm sun, dog kisses, friends around the table--an ordinary day? Not exactly. But then really, is there any such thing? 

Life Melody

Absorbed in my work this morning, 

I hear several bars of music before my conciousness kicks in.  

Outside, a Carolina Wren is singing its clear sweet song.  

They are favorites of mine, these small happy birds, 

hopping around with tails held high and springs in their feet.  

Full of energy, they remind me of teenagers until I hear their opera voices, 

rich and mature. 

Today, the bird I hear actually is a youngster; 

I find it perched on a branch, 

and it already knows its life melody.

After the bird is gone, I bend back over my desk,
the song still playing in my mind,

and another like it:

This is my Father's world,

The birds their carols raise,

The morning light, the lily white,

Declare their Maker's praise.

This is my Father's world:

He shines in all that's fair;

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass,

He speaks to me everywhere.

Maltbie D. Babcock