The Wren from Carolina
I started my love affair with this perky little songbird while living in Charleston, SC in the 90s. Since then, I have had nests and wrens in Louisiana and now in Florida. These quirky little winged things have plenty of personality. They have a “bouncy” up and down movement that makes me think they are just happy to be wherever they are. And they are known for the males repertoire of calls that sort of sounds like this: teakettle, teakettle, teakettle…repeated several times. Always a three note variation. There is some wren folklore that a wren visits you when you are sad or upset with the intention of cheering you up. Or at least they might be there reminding you that life is too short to be wasted on being upset about things! I like that!
This wren will often choose a hanging basket or a planter that is above ground to make a nest in your yard. It’s a joy to be able to peak in on the progress and perhaps actually witness a hatch. The one below is inside a bromeliad that I have attached to a piece of driftwood and leaned up against a fence.
While they mostly eat bugs, they will visit a feeder for sunflower seeds or bits of nuts. But mostly mine go to a suet container. I have found that they will perch close by my feeder and wait patiently for all the “bigger, bossy birds” to leave, then quickly move in to grab a bite. I really loved catching the one below just hanging out on the bird shaped finial at the top of my main feeder pole. Notice how for their general size, the beak is rather large, seeming to give the wren a consistently “pouty” expression!
One of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, included a lovely poem about the wren in her Why I Wake Early collection. I want to include it here:
The Wren from Carolina by Mary Oliver
Just now the wren from Carolina buzzed through the neighbor’s hedge
a line of grace notes I couldn’t even write down much less sing.
Now he lifts his chestnut colored throat
And delivers such a cantering praise - for what?
For the early morning, the taste of a spider, for his small cup of life
That he drinks from every day, knowing it will refill.
All things are inventions of holiness.
Some more rascally than others.
I’m on that list too, though I don’t know exactly where.
But, every morning, there is my own cup of gladness,
And there’s that wren in the hedge, above me, with his blazing song.
On a personal note, I have just returned from my pilgrimage, over 500 miles walked from France to the northern coast of Spain, along the Camino de Santiago - or The Way of St. James. This was the hardest thing I have ever done, humbling and gratifying in a way I am at a loss to express fully. I am newly aware of the fact that I am also an invention of holiness and quite a rascal to boot. And like the lovely Carolina Wren I want to celebrate gratitude daily for all the little things in my life.
