Our Wrens returned this spring, building a
Sturdy nest in rambling shrubs that had
Overgrown the fence. Last year their old
Birdhouse collapsed, sending fledglings to
Windblown wilds of flowing stands of
Seagrass adjacent to salt marsh.
Remembering angst-filled days of mother
Wren, her mate avoided our newly mounted
Birdhouses, as did our resident Chickadees
That in one chilly afternoon rejected both of
Them for secluded branches higher in vine-
Covered oak trees.
When the young Wrens left their nest, sans
Perils of windblown rain, we collected their
Nest, an architectural marvel of mud, grasses,
And small twigs formed into a sturdy bowl,
A weather-resistant home, molded into small
Branches of looming shrub.
Instinctively an industrious engineer, papa
Wren obtained straw from distant fields,
Grasses from our mowed yard, and most
Amazingly of all, countless minute bits of
Mud to serve as bird-nest cement to form
Both shape and depth.
We will keep this nest on a high shelf in the
Garage to share it with neighbor’s kids, so
They, too, may appreciate nature and her
Subtle curiosities, the tireless work of a
Daddy bird that providing a home for his
Mate and their ever-hungry offspring.