Location, Location, Location

In the dawn's gray light, the house wren begins his bubbly, incessant territorial song. He is better than an alarm clock. I listen through the open window, thinking of how I had hoped to sleep in later. Then I remember, I am lucky to be hearing a wren singing at all.

Wren nest box in its new location.
(Margo D. Beller)

Once again the changes in my yard came fast when winter was finally over. Where once the sun would hit me as I sat on my enclosed porch, now the light is filtered through oak and maple leaves. The sun's arc is now wide enough that my chair gets hit by the early and late sun. 

Besides the tree leaves, the shrubs, lawn and perennials came back with a vengeance. The back garden bed I had re-netted after taking off the protective burlap and cutting back the yew shrubs and the other plants quickly filled with fresh leaves and bright pink and purple flowers on the geraniums, coral bells and columbine. In the front yard, the azeleas, lillies and rhododendron were the best I've seen in years thanks to all the rain we had in the spring. Even Spruce Bringsgreen was covered in fresh blue-green foliage.

On May 7 I was still wrapping the pots of peppers I had put out front in plastic sheeting to protect them from the overnight cold. On May 9 we had a heavy rain. On May 10 the yard was filled with warblers, vireos and even a Swainson's thrush. All of them couldn't continue north to their breeding areas because of the bad weather. The birds were in my yard to take advantage of the oak seeds and insects. They fed and sang for only a day or so before continuing on their way.

But not all the migrants left. Some like to stay in my yard. Earlier this month there were still white-throated sparrows calling and singing their "Sam Peabody" song in my yard, where they had spent the winter. Then the catbirds started arriving. Now those sparrows are gone (but will be back next winter) and the catbirds fill the void with their activity and singing.

Back plot filled with blooming
geraniums, coral bells and 
columbine, with feeder.
(Margo D. Beller)

And then there is the migrant bird I watch for every year, the house wren. Every year I hang a wooden nest box in a tree, hoping a pair will use it to have a brood. Sometimes a wren pair will take over the nest box immediately. Some years it takes a little longer. 

Until this year the box was always hung in my apple tree. Last year I had planned on putting it in another location because when the tree is full of apples it is also full of squirrels, other birds and me trying to knock down as many apples as I can for my own use. The wrens would be disturbed. Two years ago there had been plenty of apples. 

But in 2020 I had forgotten my plan and hung the box in the apple tree as usual. However, in the year of the coronavirus the apple did not put out as many flowers to form fruit, so the picking was done by the time the wrens were feeding their young.

This year I did not forget, and I learned there are some differences using a dogwood instead of an apple tree.

Once I read the first reports of house wrens in my area I hung the box on what I thought was a sturdy branch. But the next strong wind had the box swinging wildly, something that didn't happen in the more densely branched apple tree. Luckily, the dogwood had another set of branches that made a natural V where the box could be hung more securely. 

Then I waited. 

Rhododendron (Margo D. Beller)

On May 4, I heard a house wren singing in the backyard. As I watched from the porch he investigated the box. Then he left. Later that day I was on the porch, looked at the box and was horrified to realize the hinged side that allows me to get in there to clear the nest after the birds have flown south for the winter was hanging open! I quickly got my ladder to climb up and shut the box tight so a bird would want to use it.

That's how things stood until May 9 when another house wren came singing into the yard. This one was more promising. He checked out all the feeders, flew into the dogwood and into the box. He stayed around the yard for a few days and at one point I heard the scolding call of his mate answering him. But on May 13 I realized there was no singing, no birds.

On May 15 I went to the box, intending to take it down and put it in the apple tree, even tho' this is shaping up to be another good year for apples. Then I saw the tell-tale twig sticking out from the box, signifying "this is taken." Was it from the pair? Would they be back? I left the box alone. But there was only silence for nearly a week.

Spruce Bringsgreen in his spring coat.
(Margo D. Beller)

On May 21, another male house wren was in the dogwood singing. He went into and out of the box and stayed in the yard all day. The next day he was back singing and his mate was making trips into the box with nesting material. Was this the pair from the other week? I don't know, but this time it looks like they are staying.

The dogwood leaves shade the box from the sun for most of the day (tho' the foliage is not as thick as it is in the apple tree) and the only things to possibly disturb the wrens are catbirds and others that happen to fly to a dogwood branch for some reason. Squirrels wouldn't be interested now, tho' they might be later in the season if there are dogwood fruits, which are small and red and won't be ripe enough to eat until after the wrens have finished their breeding and left the yard. Right now the squirrels are distracted by the apples that are growing and will soon be all over the yard, attracting deer.

As it was in the apple tree, the box is high enough in the dogwood to be free from danger while not so high that I have difficulty putting it up or taking it down. The box is sturdy despite years of dings. It is a good home in a very good location. 

That's why, as of today, Mr. Wren is still singing that bubbly, incessant song in the gray light of dawn.