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Johnny Wren

Based on true events

Many know of the famous, poetical Jenny Wren, but few are aware of the story of the prosaic Johnny Wren. Really, he would have not had this tale published if I had not unfolded before him my dire plight of being unable to think up a good story. But, once he heard of my need, he was all but willing to sacrifice of wedge of his pride to save me from literary destruction. He is like that, the kindly soul. Well, this tale begins with his courtship of Jenny Wren, and their subsequent marriage. My, how Johnny would serenade her as she inspected nest box after nest box for the perfect home. But she was soon to discover that Johnny’s voice was better than his carpentry skills. For, when she had exhausted her efforts to haul twigs and twine into the nest box of her choosing, Johnny would embrace the task wholeheartedly, but his efforts spanned no further. Evidently, he was either unaware or unpractised in the art of nest-building. What else, indeed, would explain the phenomenon of him trying to squeeze a twig lengthwise into the narrow hole instead of inserting the stick end first? Jenny would watch in evident dismay as he attempted this feat, only to succeed in breaking the twig in two, after which it would fall from his bill and tumble to the ground beneath. But the zeal of Johnny was unabated, and with a trilling, cheerful song, he would follow the stick and select another which was nearby, and taking it into his bill, would rise to the occasion and the nest box to labour again...and again...an again. But his aid was useless to his wife, for every twig he had he broke, like the first, against the opening of the nest box. Finally, Jenny could bear watching no more and hid her pretty head under her silky wing, listening to her husbands jubilant song interspersed with the snap!snap! of the destruction of the twigs. There, she waited for Johnny to halt his so-called nest building and alert her to begin her work once more. But before that moment arrived, something rather unusual occurred: the snapping of sticks came to an end, and Jenny removed here wing from her face to peer curiously at the nest box above. There was her husband, poking a twig into the aperture instead against. She was more than a little astonished and cocked her head at Johnny who returned the gesture with a wide grin, as far as birds can grin that is. Then, in victorious jubilation, he burst forth into vivacious song like a waterfall and fell to the ground in doing so. There, Jenny eagerly joined him and together they hopped in a happy circle, Johnny singing and Jenny chattering. And so, after that triumph, the nest was soon completed and a beautiful nest it was. Thus ends the tale of Johnny Wren, and if you ever see him and his wife, give them my regards, and many happy wishes for the their future. 

House Wren
Troglodytes aedon

This sprightly little bird nests in nest boxes and cavities and almost constantly is making some noise. From the bubbling, ascending vocalizations of the male, to the squeaks and chatters of both male and female, these birds have much to say. Unlike other wrens, they are quite plain, bearing only light barring on their pale brown wings and an obscure milky eyebrow. They are very useful beings, devouring many insects, among which are grasshoppers and spiders. Interestingly enough, if there is an overly high population of this species in an area , males might do away with the eggs and young of their neighbouring nests to ensure the survival of their young.