Baby Wren

For years I've wanted to photograph a wren and at last I got the chance this afternoon in my own back garden. It's a juvenile who attracted my attention with its high pitched tzee-ing note. The parent was nearby - I spotted it once - making a warning sound, to which the infant didn't know how to respond. So it sat there looking confused, while I snapped like mad, and then tiptoed away. This was the clearest, but none was very sharp.

It's a yin yang day on the bird front. So very sad to report that the mother swallow has died in the nest, while the father is carrying on to-ing and fro-ing feeing the babies. I have just made the bold decision to remove the body before it gets fly-blown and maggotty. Dug the grave first to make the process as quick and seamless as possible, and have covered it with a rock. Now I've just got to keep my distance and hope the father will carry on his good work of feeding the babies. So sad.

Thanks for all the nice comments about the peacock yesterday. From that stunning showbird, with its loud, raucous squeal, to the tiny piping of Britain's smallest bird in 24 hours! Oh, and I have written a wren poem, but years ago. Here it is:

Wren

Farthing-framed I found you, first,
when, as a child, I clutched the coin
possessing you, wren.

Flimsy-feathered, as small and round
as the coin you graced, caught in a glimpse,
capricious wren.

Warming the woods with your warning trill,
you burrow in bracken and bramble,
warbling wren.

Stolen from skies to thrill the earth,
a tilt-tail joker, bewildering winter,
whimsical wren.

poem © Celia Warren 2011