Baby Wrens

animal, forest, wood

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Awhile ago, a mother and father wren built their nest an an old flower pot sitting on the middle shelf of a unit that sat on the back patio. My wife and I didn’t go near it, but we didn’t stop working in the back yard, either.

Today, I was sitting in a chair on the back patio, taking apart some solar lamps we’d used in the garden. There was a bit of rustling coming from behind me. I thought it might be coming from the wren nest in the pot.

After awhile, there was some chittering. Then some noises that sounded like a very faint duck.

I decided momma wren was mad that I was too close and decided to go indoors. Instead, I went to the screened-in back porch where I could watch the wren nest. The first baby was smaller than the mother and father and didn’t have as long a tail. It flew right away, close to the ground, landing in one arbor, flying to the opposite side of the metal arbor, then to the next one, then to the lilac bush, the first rail of the fence, and back to the nest again. It always flew close to the ground.

Out from the nest popped another. Then another. Then another. Mom and Pop kept flying back and forth from the nest, like they were showing the young ones how to fly.

Then they flew. Not far. Just to the ground of the back patio. Then into the wall. Then behind where we reel up the garden hose. Then to the wheel of the garden hose, to the potted plants outside the kitchen door, to the barbecue, behind the trash can, the recycle can and around the corner of the house.

I saw one again, flying to the first level of the fence, then along the top of the fence, then to a tree branch, and finally out of sight.

Momma Wren came back and whistled her duck call, but no one answered.

I don’t know if I’ll see them again, but it was magical.