When the mother bird returns to her brood / beak squirming with winged breakfast / a shrill clamor rises like jingling from tiny, high-pitched bells.
From a poem titled 'Baby Wrens' Voices' by Thomas R. Smith
Just a quick but rather delightful (methinks) postcard this weekend. Peter and I were pegging freshly washed sheets onto our clothesline, which is near the Jasmine vines I wrote
about recently. Just then a baby fairy wren made it's maiden flight from the nest and landed on the path at our feet. Peter tiptoed into the house to get our cameras and came right back, by which time the little cotton ball of feathers had clumsily flown up to the washing line. As I zoomed in for a close up, it gently flew towards me and landed on the Canon point and shoot in my hands! Peter was swift in capturing a shot before the little one flew onto the vines near the fence. The parent birds were darting back and forth, chirping anxiously, and then the daddy blue wren appeared with 'a winged breakfast' in the form of a moth. A wondrous moment that I simply had to share. Tell me, do you enjoy the wildlife in your garden? Share your stories and links to any photos or posts here.