Wren

We had been living in our drafty old farmhouse for a while when I first identified the small bird that had build a nest in the massive lilac bush (multi-stemmed tree?) next to the clothesline out back. I had noticed its call and, unfamiliar with wrens, wondered what bird was making it.

Audubon Field Guide writes of the house wren: “very active and inquisitive, bouncing about with its short tail held up in the air, pausing to sing a rich bubbling song, it adds a lively spark to gardens and city parks despite its lack of bright colors.” Lack of bright colors, that was accurate! This plain brown bird would have been completely unremarkable but for its manner. Yet its lively movement – hopping and flitting from spot to spot, its jaunty tail twitching as it scolded me for coming too near the nest – was truly engaging.

The wren has featured in lore and literature through the years. An Irish proverb, “a wren in the hand is better than a crane out of it,” calls us to celebrate the wonder of the small rather than to chase after big things. William Blake once cautioned that those who harmed a wren would never be loved, a warning for us all as we fail to value our nonhuman fellows on this planet home.

Having read novels in which a subdued female character is compared to a wren, I likened myself to these birds which though obvious once noticed are also shy of attention. I didn’t draw attention to myself. While I prefer gray and blue to brown, I’d never been considered showy. Uncertain of my reception, I preferred to blend into the background rather than risk exposure. 

I also admired wrens for their determination to make something good out of a bad situation. Male house wrens build twiggy nests with which to attract a mate. (Imagine if humans so valued home-building skills.) After we moved to the farmette, an old leather boxing glove was found, yellowed and cracking. Someone hung it by its knotted laces from the rusty cross piece supporting the clothesline. That spring, a wren build a nest in it. After a spring downpour, I noticed that the still-empty nest was waterlogged but soon the wren was back, undeterred, rebuilding. As one who saw herself in the wren even before this, I was touched. I too had been trying to make a home in somewhat difficult circumstances.

We moved, then moved again. I forgot about wrens except for rare moments when I’d hear one while walking through a garden. I grew up. I found that I enjoy decking out in reds and stripes. I gave up frumpy and wore clothes that fit. I gained comfort at being in groups of people and learned to hold my own in conversation. I found the courage to stand in the center of a room and to speak as well as listen. I moved on in good ways. I’m more fully me and I celebrate all of this.

And yet… when doing a search on wren characteristics for this post, a list from What Is My Spirit Animal appeared among the birding links. While I’ve never considered that I might have a spirit animal (if you have experience with this, I’d love to hear from you!) the list of characteristics and words associated with wrens piqued my curiosity:

accuracy, adroitness, cleverness, cordiality, dexterous, graciousness, family bonds, focused, handy, joyousness, liveliness, movement, playful, quick-witted, shared responsibility, skill, spritely, versatile, and watchfulness.

While I’m not especially gracious or cordial and I’ve been challenged in sharing responsibility (I’m getting better!), most of the others might be used for me. Hm, maybe I’m a wren after all.

If you enjoyed reading this post, please consider sharing it on social media