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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

Intervals of silence between bursts of bubbling song are longer and the song itself is shorter than it was two weeks ago. Still the house wren greets the day with the rollicking songs of robins. Poor little bird, he had my sympathy even though he transgressed according to my standards. My values mean nothing to this indomitable little brown bird; he is only four and a half inches long and full of energy and determination to reproduce himself. He must be discouraged.

Since he lost his incubating mate in mid-May, the wren has hurled his effervescent song into the air in hopes of attracting another mate. The energetic mite is attempting to fulfill his destiny, pass on his genes and fill our yard with wrens.

After his first nest was destroyed, the house wren filled a bluebird nest box with sticks, dropping them on top of bluebird eggs. Lee Trott and I watched him make repeated trips to the entrance with a stiff, short twig in his bill. He disappeared inside, stayed for only a moment, then emerged to search for another. During this time he sang and sang, even pausing to sing while probing for spiders under the garage roof and around the tool shed.

On several occasions Lee saw him with a longer than usual twig that wouldn’t fit into the hole because the wren had it cross-wise in his bill. Eventually he figured out that it would fit end-first. This bird had patience to spare.

How well I remember the day he appeared in the yard. Lee Trott wrote in her day book: House wren has returned, loud and clear! It was Sunday, April 26.1 was up and out soon after Sunrise and watched as the wren checked every possible niche an cranny for possible nesting sites. He disappeared into the'bluebird nest box near the garage, emerged almost immediately to check out a tiny hole in which he could get into the garage. The inspection of that

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