This spring I cleaned my back porch. In doing so, I put away my gardening hat. It had been on the porch for over three years and was used annually by a Wren to make its home and raise little broods of Wrenlets.
I left things tidy and headed up north. When I returned? No tangled balls of twigs, no bird doo spattered on the walls. Nothing but a rustic little setting sure to appeal to prospective owners looking at my house. Oh, did I tell you my house is for sale? Yep. The Wren sanctuary had to be sacrificed for the better good of me.
Surely a Wren wouldn't be so conventional as to put something inside a bird house?
Why, this isn't the least bit conventional. It has a front lawn of moss. A roof of Oak leaves and twine. And styrofoam siding that will last for eternity. Traces of delicate brown shells littered the inside, the babes had already flown.
This nest is so neat I have taken a solemn vow: As long as I live here, the Wren can live on my porch wrent- free. And when I move, well, we'll decide that when the time comes.