And Then There Were Two

Since my last post I haven't spent much time in the yard because it is migration time. I've risen early and gone places at various distances from my home, usually without eating. The early birder gets the birds as they look for food. Then I come home around 9 a.m. for my own breakfast. In good weather I take my food out to my enclosed porch and sit so I can watch the house wren nest box.

In a previous post I mentioned hearing the first house wren on April 19, 2025.  Exactly one year later, a male house wren started singing in the yard, two days after I put up the box. But things never seem to go as planned with these birds. After a day of seeing it around the box, the wren seemingly left.

Then, according to my notes, on Thursday, April 23, as I pulled the car out of the garage to go off one early morning, I heard a house wren singing very close, which meant it was on the opposite side of the yard from where the nest box hung. Was this the same wren or a different one?

The tell-tale stick telling other wrens this box is taken.
April 28, 2026 (Margo D. Beller)

I got my answer the next day when the house wren male continually sang from different parts of the yard as I ate my breakfast. Then it came to fuss over the box, bringing in a few sticks to give a prospective mate the idea that this would make a good spot for her nest. But I saw no second house wren that day and he soon left. 

On Saturday, April 25, it rained buckets for about 12 hours. The next day I could see the box had gotten plenty wet. I hoped it was dry inside. I saw no activity that day but I heard the male house wren singing almost continually, advertising his availability to any female.

Finally, on April 27, I saw a second wren come to the box. To me all house wrens look alike - they have no difference in size or color. The only way I could tell which was which was the male sat on a branch above the box and sang a bit while the female silently examined the box inside and outside. Then the two flew off together.

"So he has a mate," I thought. 

When I was next on the porch I saw the tell-tale stick coming out from the bottom of the box. That stick means that "this nest is taken."

This is far from new activity. I've been writing about house wrens since at least 2011. When I provide a box they have come every year, no matter which tree I securely hang it in. Every year they do the same thing - look at the box, decide to take the box, create a nest, defend it, raise young, leave with them once they can fly. To me this never gets old. 

Today, resting after hours of birding, I sat on the porch and watched the female furiously adding more sticks to the box. The male sang nearby as she worked on her nest. It is interesting to watch her bring a stick and then try to figure out how to get it into the box. Sometimes the stick is dropped. Sometimes it is broken. Eventually she figured out she can turn her head and put the stick in that way. 

I don't see the male as she does this but I can certainly hear him. He is still singing his loud territorial call. He'll continue to do that until eggs are laid. Then he will sing more softly so as not to call attention to the nest. To me it sounds like the call is intended to assure his mate he is around to defend the nest or tell her he'll watch things while she gets some food for herself.

This 2018 picture of the wren nest I cleared from the box
gives you an indication of what's in there, mainly done by the female.
(Margo D. Beller)

When she took a break from her nest-making labors she stood for a while on top of the nest box. She then flew down to nearby bushes where she can find what she needs, be it sticks or food. 

Every year when the nest is done and the wrens - which pair only for breeding and then separate - have gone south in the fall, I empty the box to clean it. Every year I am amazed at how tightly packed the stick nest is inside. The wrens usually have a brood of three chicks. That's a lot of birds jammed into what looks like a small box. But house wrens are small birds, particularly when just hatched.

Aside from those few sticks the male put in to "stage" the box, the female does all the work building the nest. He won't enter the box again except when the chicks are born and he helps her feed them and remove the poop.

She could be sitting on eggs as early as this weekend. And then things will really get interesting.

Spruce Makes a Discovery

Early in the morning the birds are calling. They are proclaiming their territories as they search for food and a mate. If that is when they call then that is when I go outside on my back patio with the Merlin app on my phone to hear what's out there.

A blowup of this year's tenant getting the box ready as I photographed the
blooming dogwood. (Margo D. Beller)

Things continue to bloom in the garden. While the daffodils and forsythia have faded, the peony and lillies are growing, as are the hellebore's foliage, the spreading lily of the valley and the hostas in their pots. The andromeda bushes are covered in white bells the bees investigate, the apple tree I'm monitoring is covered in blossoms and the dogwood buds have opened to produce pink flowers for another year.

Unfortunately, the weeds are also flowering - garlic mustard, dandelions and, the bane of my existence, ground ivy. There are many others, including some growing in places it will be hard for me to get at.

Blooming andromeda bush (Margo D. Beller)

When I am walking around the yard with the phone I usually say good morning to Spruce Bringsgreen, the silver spruce we planted in 2007. Spruce is at his full height and, at 19, has been producing cones for the past ten years. 

This time, Spruce spoke first.

"Margo," he said, "this morning I saw there's a house wren going into the nest box!"

Yes, I said, I know. He's been singing in the yard since the day after my husband and I put the nest box into the dogwood. 

Blooming apple tree (Margo D. Beller)

This is our annual ritual, putting up a box to attract a pair of house wrens I can watch from my chair on the enclosed porch. I follow various bird lists for the first mention of house wren showing up in New Jersey. The closer it gets to my home county the more anxious I get to put up the nest box.

The box is usually visited quickly.

This year, right after putting it up, a pair of black-capped chickadees investigated. These birds are the only ones, aside from the house wren, small enough to get through the opening. But the birds, which usually nest in tree cavities, did not stay. That is just as well because a determined house wren will destroy a chickadee nest and take it over - I've seen that happen - just as a determined house sparrow would do the same thing to a house wren were it not too big to fit through the opening.

Blooming dogwood with nest box (Margo D. Beller)

One day after the box went up, I heard the distinctive house wren song. Two days after, a bird investigated. A day after that, the male wren brought a few sticks to the box - staging it, you might say, to interest a female wren. So far I have not seen more than the one wren in my yard but I'm sure that will change when the weather consistently warms and the winds come out of the south and blow more birds to my area.

"He's a little guy," Spruce said, "a bit smaller than what I've seen at the box before."

Perhaps, I said. According to the people at the Cornell Lab, a house wren is anywhere from 4.3 to 5.1 inches long. But, I added, I know that even if this wren is on the small side he will be just as feisty in protecting his territory.

"Yes, at first light he started singing up a storm. Real loud for such a small bird," Spruce added. "I hope he finds that mate."

Spruce and I will know how successful the house wren is soon enough.

Spruce in spring (Margo D. Beller)

Spring Wonders

In the small gap between the winter's foot of snow and the advent of unusual April heat in my part of the country, we had spring.

In early March the weather warmed enough to melt the last of the snow, including what was piled at the top of the driveway. The crocus bloomed, the snowdrops struggled to bloom and the daffodils started growing through the winter debris. In the space of two days I could finally clear the front garden beds and cut down the dried ornamental grasses so the daffodils growing in this area could be seen. Six months' worth of collected brush was put at the curb.

Dogwood buds, before they opened and the leaves appeared.
(Margo D. Beller)

I had time to again marvel at how my perennials are able to survive an unusually cold and snowy winter to grow again in the spring without any assistance from me. Then the temperature again became very cold.

That did not stop the plants from growing or the birds from singing in the early morning. The robins, Carolina wrens and jays were particularly active. Woodpeckers proclaimed their territories by drumming against trees. Despite the cold I went outside with Merlin to do a census of what was in the vicinity. (Two days ago I saw the first report of house wren in the area. My husband helped me put up the nest box. A wren came to investigate a day later and I heard one sing this morning.)

Slowly the temperature warmed. The maple tree flowered. The viburnum and pear tree started leafing, as did the lilac. At the very end of the Lenten period there were flowers on the Lenten Rose (hellebore). The dead, brown leaves started falling off the euonymous shrubs, revealing the fresh green and yellow foliage the deer will try to get at through the fencing.

Spruce continues to stand tall and, once again, has put out cones. He hosted some unusual winter visitors this year - a pair of red-breasted nuthatches. I stand in awe of him, seeing how much he has grown since he was planted in late 2007.

However, the other tree planted at that time, the dogwood, continues to concern me. Ever since having more than half of the dogwood cut down I wait to see if the remaining live half will bloom and leaf out. This year I could see flower buds but would they open? Thanks to the heat that came upon us during the last week and a couple of brief but heavy rain showers, the buds have started opening and the leaves are growing.

The apple tree starting to show leaves. It now is covered in blossoms.
(Margo D. Beller)

And then there's the old apple tree. Last year the tree leafed, bloomed and then one big branch went dead. As with the dogwood, I had the dead part cut down. Would the tree survive?

So far it looks like it has. The tree started growing leaves and, as of today, there are blossoms. Each flower is a potential apple. But I am still watching to see how the tree progresses as the season continues. The pear tree, meanwhile, has many flowers in the upper branches I can't get at to cut back. I hope the squirrels get to the fruit because, as I found out years ago, the branches of the pear can't withstand the weight of a bear.

After all the snow the plants appear to be doing quite well despite the current heat. The azalea buds are about to open. The grape hyacinth is thriving in a way I have not seen in years. The lilies and peony are growing so fast I've had to put in supports sooner than expected. 

The New England aster I planted last year is leafing but I am not sure if the lavender has survived, or if I killed the anemone. I've put the anemone in a different pot with fresh soil in what I hope is a better place in the yard. I will be watching for signs of life. If it is alive it won't flower until autumn.

By which time the spring wonder of my garden will have long been replaced by the tedium of weeding and thoughts of putting the garden to bed before another winter.