Ode to the Carolina Wren

I love bluebirds. Just love ‘em. I’ve erected boxes (houses) for them and watched dozens of parents raise even more dozens of babies. Once, I raced into our backyard in the middle of a hailstorm to snatch a marauding rat snake off a bluebird box. That’s love, right? And, hummingbirds? I love them, too. I’m fascinated that a tiny bird can fly to middle Tennessee from Central America each year and hover outside my studio window to let me know I’m late in putting out the feeder. So cool.

My avian appreciation extends to birds of prey, too. Hawks, owls, kestrels, the rare backyard eagle … I appreciate them all. If I had a spirit animal, I sure hope it would be an osprey. Handsome. Majestic. Awesome at fishing. We’d have so much in common …

But, my all-time favorite bird is the Carolina wren.

You’ve seen them and you’ve definitely heard them. They’re small birds with a prodigious noggin, distinct auburn, tan and cream coloring, and a very serious-looking “eyebrow” that counters their playful and inquisitive nature. Carolina wrens are blessed with a plethora of personality and are proudly curious birds. Each morning, I watch a pair of them diligently scour the exterior of our house like building inspectors (they’re actually hunting for spiders and bugs). They chitter constantly and are often heard before being seen.

In addition to their daily foraging, wrens busily check out anything that remotely interests them. If I leave a door to my barn open for longer than a few minutes, I can almost guarantee a wren will fly inside to look around. That pile of sticks and limbs I gathered after a storm? Wren magnet. They’ll also nest in anything. I remember as a kid, a Carolina wren made an impressively messy home inside a catcher’s mitt on a shelf in our garage.

They must feel pretty safe around us. On many evenings, they’ll roost under our front porch. Peeking out our front door after sundown and seeing each porch column topped with a snoozing little wren can only bring a smile.

For the past several summers, a passion flower vine emerges and grows on a trellis near our garden. In addition to bringing pollinators to its purple flowers, the plant attracts in Gulf fritillary butterflies, which use the vine as a host for its caterpillars. The spiky, shiny critters eat the foliage, grow quickly and eventually form chrysalises — but most caterpillars never make it through metamorphosis. The Carolina wrens are clearly aware of this annual tradition and gobble up the little buggy burritos as quickly as they can.

But my favorite characteristic of Carolina wrens is their beautiful voice. They sing like they’re going for a four-chair turn. Loud, clear, melodious. The tune can vary, but the pitch, tone and key are unmistakable. Liberty Mutual didn’t come up with “Liberty, liberty, liberty!” The Carolina wrens did. Each spring and summer, they prove it.

So, here’s the latest entry into my watercolor journal … a tribute to the bubbly little backyard bird buddies.