A Case of Most Unfortunate Timing
As a result of his persistent wooing, I had the delight of watching both a He and She-Wren complete a nest in the gourd hanging outside my kitchen window. The wren singing went steadily on for weeks. I was nearing wren-song fatigue. There is no correlation between He-Wren's tiny size and the amplifier-inspired volume of his melodies. One morning while outside weeding, because that's what all gardeners are doing in mid-June, I heard something else-- the unmistakable peeping of hungry baby wrens. Success!
Then we went on vacation. Two weeks of vacation.
So, that is the end of the wren story. In an ironic bit of timing, my son is away at camp this week. After all of my wren writings, I especially feel the empty nest. It's awfully quiet.