We’ve shared our lodgings with a Wren family for the four springs we have lived at what I call “The Ranch.” I’ve thought of ourselves as the landlords as we have occupied the guest house on these eight acres with the Wrens having residence in their nest atop the inside carport post. Rethinking that they were here before we bought the place, I have decided that they may be the owners and we are the ones who should be grateful for the privilege of living here, even though the deed is in our name.
Mr. and Mrs. Wren have provided entertainment for Al on lovely days. He takes a Diet Pepsi break in his favorite carport chair to watch them build their nest and then to fly back and forth bringing tasty tidbits to their young after they are hatched. This past week brought an entertaining episode to both of us.
As I returned across the carport late in the afternoon from a writing session in my she shed, I heard a continuous insistent chirruping. The time had come for the babies to leave the nest.
Four little wrens hopped about the carport, taking short airlifts from one spot to another. One hopped along the brick trim. Another took an unsteady flight to the yard. Mrs. Wren and one reluctant baby remained in the nest with the mama twittering insistently. Being who I am, I have invented a dialogue to go with what I saw.
Mrs. Wren: Don’t be scared. You can do this.
Baby Wren: But it’s a long way down there.
Mrs. Wren: Just watch me. I’ll show you.
Baby Wren: I might fall and break a wing.
Mrs. Wren: Come on, now. You’ve got this.
Baby Wren: My nest is comfy. Maybe, tomorrow.
Sibling Wrens: Come on out. The weather’s fine, and there’s a lot to do out here.
Baby Wren: I think I’ll stay in and read a book.
Mrs. Wren: Cut out the nonsense. You’re old enough. It’s time to fly and explore the world.
I really needed to take my last afternoon walk so I left them arguing. When I returned both Mrs. Wren and Baby Wren were gone so I assume Mama won. Since this is early in the season, I expect we’ll have another brood this year.