What's in a Name?

      Joyce never named the wrens.  She's named just about everything else in our yard.  Animals, trees, stray cats all have appelations.  Three receently planted pine trees on the hill are Sam, Sophie, and Burton, all after deceased loved ones.  Rosetta was the rabbit that fell into our egress well and was rescused and nursed by Joyce.  But not the wrens.

     Six years ago when I retired  for the third time my coworkers presented me with a large white birdhouse that we erected on the corner of our dwelling, within easy view of the side porch.  For three years it remained vacant.  In the spring of the fourth year two wrens moved in, presumeably a male and a female.  They had babies and we watched them learn to fly.  Once the newly hatched birds got stuck in the corner of our porch.  I was smart enought not to try to rescue them for fear that the mother woulkd abandon them.  The wrens returned the secoind year and had two broods befoire exiting the birdhouse in the early fall.  This year they returned in April.  We watched them industriously clean out last year's nest  and bring in sticks and straw to rebuild.  I left cuttings I had triummed from decorative grasses and these were accepted and used  by the birds.

     Joyce researched wrens on the web and learned that the male services several partners in different nests. He allows each female to chose which nest she will inhabit.  The are said to place spider eggs in the nest so that the spiders will eat the mites.  They are aggressive, destroying eggs in the nests of other birds.  Bluebirds will not build nests if there are wrens in the vacinity. It is said that the male. who perches himself on the top of the house and sings vociferously,  has over two thousand different songs. I find that hard to believe.  You can't always trust Wikopedia.

     it is now the first week in June and as yet we have seen no babies.   Perhaps it is because the potential parents remain nameless.  The babies may be bastards like Jon Snow in Game of Thrones.
But today I observed sometrhing. different.  Usually it is the male that makes repeated trips to and from the house to the nearby woods and brings back insects to fed the female while she sits on the eggs  This morning I noticed both male and female leaving the nest.  Have the baies arrived?  Should I be ready to pass out cigars? We shall soon see.

     Joyce and I are happy to see them in the spring and disappointed when they leave, without warning. They are like renters in our birdhouse (wrenters?).  We become accustomed to seeing them fly  in and out all summer.  They make themselves at home here. Yesterday the male flew into our open garage.  I must remember to rmind Joyce to give them a name (Aawren and Aawreness?).