An Iowa Garden

There are few things more cheery in the spring garden than the house wren trilling from a low branch near the garden path. This tiny bundle of energy and song is the personification of the joy of spring. His cheeriness, though, disguises an asassin's heart; the house wren is a little home-wrecker and killer. We have four bird houses; two wren houses with small openings, and two generic birdhouses open to all, which usually means the latter two houses end up having house sparrows move in. They move in, but they often just as abruptly are evicted when the wrens show up. Now, like most of us, I always was a little contemptuous of house sparrows; dirty, noisy, interlopers. However in reading one of my bird books, the author grew lyrical in describing this little bird as it exists in rural areas; sooty and common in cities, but shiny and handsome in the country, so I started looking at them anew, and the male at least, really is a nicely colored little bird. I stopped begrudging them their share of sunflower seeds at the feeder, and welcomed them to the two larger birdhouses. All should therefore be peaceful in the garden, but all too often (as has happened this spring), when the wren shows up he decides he wants one of the BIG houses, and the next thing you know, the two sparrows have been evicted, their nest hanging in tatters, half out of the house, and the sparrows are left fighting a losing battle around and around the house, until they finally slink off into the brush. Hopefully they don't then try to move into one of the small wren houses (see my previous tale of the headless sparrow). I've read that when wrens set up their nest, they may go around and drill holes in the eggs of the other small birds in their territory. So enjoy the sweet song of the wren, marvel at its energy and heart, but don't turn your back on it.