Wrens

There was a bird house at our eye level, about twenty feet from the deck where we would have our morning coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Wren were run off their feet all day long trying to keep the four youngsters inside fed. They were a noisy bunch so we suspected that they were soon ready to make their escape. Then one afternoon, on my way down from the orchard, I heard a cacophony of twittering and cheeping. I cocked my ear to the side to try to determine where the birds were. They were very close. I finally determined that they were right at my feet and as I parted the leaves of a very small bush, out scattered 4 baby wrens, some running, some flying, some fluttering. They had indeed left their nest but where were mom and dad? I stalked these birds for the next thirty minutes, waiting for them to give me a good photo opportunity but they seemed to know instinctively where to camouflage themselves. Out of 30 shots, these were the best, but even here you can barely make him out. They kept calling to each other, each one trying to stay within sight of the other, for protection. When they got close to each other, their mouths would gape as if expecting some food to be shoved into the opening. But, these little kids were too young and helpless to feed themselves. I never did see mom or dad and by next morning the peeps and cries were silenced. I hope they made it to a safe place for night and then off to life's adventures, but that stray cat, I hear, is notorious for catching birds. These wrens eat a lot of bugs so I hope they survived.