The house wren nest box is empty, but my heart is full.
The annual wren nesting at Mt. Hoo has been a success.
For seven years now a tiny camera has allowed my wife and I to watch this miracle unfold in the 4-by-4-inch birdhouse just outside my bedroom window.
I’ve shared this annual ritual with readers for nearly a dozen years, but things became more personal in 2018 when I installed the mini camera that provides a live video feed to a television in the house.
It opened a whole new world of understanding and emotion through an intimate look at the amazing process.
It also allowed us to become so emotionally attached to our hatchlings. We consider ourselves Grand Wren Parents.
I know nesting is about to begin when the powerful song of a hopeful male fills the air on a spring morning.
He has found a suitable nesting location and placed a twig or two inside, and he is optimistic that his lilting song will attract an accepting female.
This year, the male began singing on March 20, and by the 24th, a female had accepted his invitation, completed the nest and was spending nights inside.
The first egg was deposited on April 15, and the final total was seven eggs the next day. This has been the typical number each year.
On May 4, four eggs hatched and two more the following day. One egg was cracked and did not hatch.
The male and female wrens shared feeding duties, with dawn-to-dusk shuttles to bring in insects, worms, spiders and even bees to feed the youngsters.
The female would spend the chilly nights in the box, puffed up like a comforting blanket to keep the quickly growing chicks warm.
As wren grandparents, we worried about them on cold, rainy nights, or the hot, sunny days.
Soon, naked bodies were covered with down, then pin feathers and eyes opening. It became very crowded and noisy as they continually demanded food.
By May 16, the six chicks were the same size as the adult wrens, and it was mayhem as they flapped their wings as if testing for a flight into the outside world.
At this point the parent birds were coaxing the chicks to leave the nest by bringing food to the entry hole, but not going inside.
On May 23, I checked the camera about 7:15 a.m. and the six chicks were extremely active and hungry.
I returned 15 minutes later, and they had all left the box.
It’s always a sweet and sour moment. Joy at knowing there are six new creatures in the world, but sadness that they are gone.
I will clean the nest box, give it a new coat of paint and it will be ready for the next generation of house wrens.
This year’s cycle was routine, but there has been drama — like the raid a few years ago from an unpaired male wanting to establish his own nest.
I saw him tossing the helpless chicks out of the box and was able to put them back in the nest. Sadly, four chicks did not survive the trauma and it appeared the adult male was killed by the intruder, leaving a single adult to feed the youngsters.
The remaining parent wren worked tirelessly, and the three surviving chicks successfully fledged on schedule.
Cowan is a freelance columnist. Email [email protected] or visit erniesoutdoors.blogspot.com.
