An Ebullient Bird

In the midst of winter, birdsong gets rare around here. The major reasons for birds to sing—out of sheer joy or as a warning to competitors—are now absent. There’s little joy in foraging for food in frigid weather, and the time of rivalry for mates is long gone. Most birds quietly endure—with at most an occasional outburst of scolding chatter (at each other or the cat).

There is one local bird, however, who seems to be undaunted by the cold: the Carolina wren. On the coldest of winter days (even nights!) this little guy may suddenly burst forth with a perky song that makes me think of May. While all other birds crowd ‘round the feeder, jousting for position to get at the sunflower seeds, the Carolina wren may be seen hopping gaily about, investigating crevices and nooks—as if food was the last thing on its wee mind.

Wrens are native to North America. The single wren species inhabiting Europe is the Winter wren—which took the reverse trek across the Bering Strait eons ago. The Carolina wren—as one might expect from its name—inhabits the southeastern U.S. It’s one of the larger wrens. It is brown, potbellied, portly, and humpbacked, with a long, bold white eyebrow. It moves in perky, jerky hops from one place to another—constantly looking around, as if seeking some kind of mischief to engage in. One of my bird books even says that this bird “carries the connotation of lasciviousness”!

It loves tight confines—constantly poking into nooks, crannies, and hidden holes. It will nest in peculiar places, such as mailboxes (my neighbor once had one in there for a few weeks), tin cans, and even coat pockets on clotheslines! We’ve had them steal into an outbuilding when the door was left open for a few hours, and set up a nest in a secluded shelf corner. (Then you can’t close the door for a while!)

When I first noticed the Carolina wren years ago I mistook it for a nuthatch in my naiveté. They’re the same size, have a similar slender bill, and exhibit the same perky moves. They are also the only local bird who can prance down a tree trunk, head first. I quickly learned, though, that while nuthatches are gray, wrens are brown. Simple difference.

I also used to confuse the call of the Carolina wren with the cardinal. Both are loud and clarion-like. But there’s no confusion for me in the midst of winter’s grip, when I hear a song. The cardinal maintains its stoic silence, leaving the sudden bursts of buoyant aria to the Carolina wren.