Little “Jenny Wren” figured in our nursery tales and was one of the delights of our childhood, because of its diminutive size, its pert, cocked tail, its incessant activity, and its continuous chatter. No dull moments when a wren was near by! Its nesting-habits make it interesting to young and old. Though loyal to a nesting-locality, it will make its neat nest in a great variety of places, such as boxes, empty jars, small pails, or gourds, if placed conveniently, or in wren-houses. Wrens are valiant defenders of their nests, but have been driven away from favorite nesting-places by quarrelsome English sparrows; consequently wrens are decreasing in number. Wren-houses with openings about an inch in diameter, too small for sparrows to enter, may help somewhat to check the decrease of these valuable insect-eating birds. They are noisy little neighbors, a curious combination of joyousness and irritability. A pair of wrens that built a nest on the piazza of my brother’s home spent so much time in scolding and quarreling that they were almost unendurable. One morning they disappeared; a few hours later my brother found the drowned body of the female in a rain-barrel. Whether it was accident, murder, or suicide, no one knew, but within twenty-four hours a pleasanter-tempered Lady Wren appeared, swept and garnished the home of her predecessor, and set up house-keeping. A larger measure of peace reigned thereafter. As songsters, wrens are very remarkable for volume of sound, for sweetness of tone, and for extreme ecstasy. I remember wakening about sunrise one morning in early June, when the spring chorus was at its climax. For about an hour, I had the joy of listening to a bird-concert more wonderful than any I had ever heard. After a time I distinguished the voices of the various familiar birds. Loudest, clearest, and sweetest of all rang the voice of the smallest member of the choir—that of the tiny house wren. |