Midsummer Musings on Wrens

Feeding time at the wren box, July 5, 2020 (Margo D. Beller)

Today, as I write, it is warm but there is a breeze and the humidity is much lower than it has been in the last week. We were hit with several inches of rain from Tropical Storm Fay on Friday, which left little in the way of damage but dropped much beneficial rain for the lawn, my flowers and this year's vegetables: the four peppers (out of nine) I grew from seed, a large-leaf basil and a tomato that should be producing yellow cherry-sized fruit at some point in August.

The lower humidity is very important because that allowed me to pry MH out of the house for a long walk in a county park some distance from us. On weekends, when I am not working in my home office, I am stuck indoors and after a while the house (and I) start to feel stale. When it is not hot and humid on the weekend we can get out. But during the week, when it is seems harder to get up and out early in the muggy air, my birding is confined to my immediate property.

The vegetable plot thickens: tomato (with cage), basil (to its lower right), two pots of
peppers and (in red pot) garlic. (Margo D. Beller)

I sit on my porch; when I see a male cardinal in my neighbor's dogwood, I realize just how disassociated from nature I've been because of circumstances beyond my control. At this time of summer, the birds I'm not feeding are busy building nests or tending to young so they are not particularly visible. At the same time, I hate summer heat and humidity, which this year seems more oppressive than usual. Or perhaps that is because of the time we're in, this plague of coronavirus. It has made me fearful to even walk around the block for fear of crossing paths with someone who is not wearing a mask or does not want to give me space. Aside from the occasional errand I run when the pressures of work drive me out of the house (in my car), I stay indoors.

Still, I shouldn't complain. MH and I are healthy. Our home state of NJ went through hell during the early days of the pandemic and now cases seem to be on the decline. I am gainfully employed and can do my job from home.

And during the week I can watch the house wrens.

House wren about to fly out after feeding young, 2020.
(Margo D. Beller)

The fledglings are growing by the minute. The parents have been shuttling back and forth to the box, either bringing in insects or taking out wren poop to keep the inside of the box clean. At the time I took the pictures of the wrens you see in this post, the young were still small enough for the parents to enter the box and feed them. Now, a week later, the young are so big the parents must feed them from outside the box.

The young call loudly as soon as they can see one or both parents bringing the food. The parents are equally loud whenever I step off the porch and walk outside. This year's wrens are lucky, they haven't had to contend much with squirrels in the apple tree. But they seem more protective. When the wren parents see me when I come out to, say, refill the water dish, they scold incessantly to warn the young to stay quiet or drive me away or both.

I do not know how many chicks are in the box (there can be anywhere from three to 10 in a clutch, according to Cornell's Ornithology Lab) but, as with all birds, the ones that are assertive and push their way to the front get fed, those that don't get weak and die. However, at least once recently I've seen a parent get into the box, perhaps to feed one of those in the back. With this box the size it is, I can't believe there'd be any more than three in there.

(Margo D. Beller)

The nesting period is about two weeks, which means that if all goes well the young may fledge next week. That, however, will be about the time we travel to see another type of fledgling, our grand-nephews. I'll be leaving the box out all summer. The birds, including the house wrens, have other things on their minds than heat, humidity and coronavirus. There may soon be a second brood in the box. Stranger things have happened this year.