Anticipation

From my vantage point at the kitchen window this morning, I watch a small feather as it hangs over the front porch, then floats out over the yard, catching an updraft, and drifts toward the sky.  I wonder idly if it was from a Carolina wren.  They've been out of sight the last couple of days after some intensive nest building last week.

The site the birds have chosen is one they have used before, an old fishing creel, hanging from a pillar on the front porch, clearly visible from the window over our kitchen sink.  The top of the basket has a Carolina-wren sized hole, which makes a perfect entrance for those little bundles of energy.  This year, they've decorated it with dried flowers.

Both of the birds were involved in the building project. They flitted from the bricks to the woodpile,  which was only a short hop from their home site.

Last year, the two of them started in on this nest, and it was derailed by the titmice, but the way the wrens were going at it last week, it looked like they had put all of that behind them.

I've told myself that I wasn't going to count my wrens before they hatched this year.  Still, I catch myself figuring; the incubation period is 12-16 days, and the young leave the nest 12-14 days after they are hatched.  It's possible, if everything goes well, that we could see fledglings, at the earliest, on April 29th.

In the meantime, I need to reign in my expectations and be grateful for each day's wonders, like the little feather floating up to the sky, destination unknown.

Linking with Rurality Blog Hop,
Wild Bird Wednesday
and Texture Tuesday

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!