HARDWICK – The wren was the first to our feeder, 6:45 a.m., the snow blowing, temps around four degrees without the wind chill. A line from an old poem came into my head. “The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow, and what will the robin do then, poor thing.”
photo by Jerry Schneider
I haven’t heard the bird sing, so I’m guessing it’s female. She’s normally the first to the feeder, followed by the hairy woodpecker, then the chickadees and titmice and finches. Compared to the hairy, which goes at the suet like a wild jack hammerer, she’s more civil, pecking delicately at the globs of peanut butter, or nestling into the smaller cage of suet, taking her time compared to the other birds, that seem more frantic, like they’d grown up in big families.
I see her perching in the afternoon, especially when the sun shines. The feeder is on the south side of the house. She’s a beautiful bird, reddish brown top, buff colored underneath, her feathers fluffed with the cold. The Carolina wren has a long turned up tail, white eye stripes and a thin downturned beak. The male has a clear voce forte [loud voice], amazing volume for a bird that small. To the untrained ear, it may sound vaguely like our cardinal.
I wouldn’t say it’s a rare bird. We’ve had it overwinter twice now. The last time was during Covid-19. But it’s uncommon enough to be surprising. Being a southern species, to see it in such cold temps and such fierce winds seems remarkable.
Old bird guides show the Carolina wren’s territory in Mexico, extending into Texas, eastward to Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas. Over the past one hundred years or so, the birds have expanded their range, most recently as far north as Vermont, New Hampshire and southern Maine.
Carolina wrens need a bit of dense cover and leaf litter, which we had in 2021, when there wasn’t so much snow. Old leaves were available around the base of the house. This year the snows have covered the leaves, but we’ve deliberately piled brush in various places around the house and have let grow a couple of dense honeysuckle shrubs in the small field next to the house. These provide protection from predators and are good for nesting.
According to a 2023 article in Northern Woodlands magazine, by Susan Shea, “Climate warming and the proliferation of backyard bird feeders have enabled these feisty, non-migratory wrens to make their homes farther north. However, severe winters with lots of snow and ice that cover ground feeding areas can drastically reduce local populations.”
The ground below our feeder is snow-covered, but the finches scatter seed off the flattened roof of the suet feeder, and the hairy woodpecker hammers away, dropping bits of suet made of lard, peanut butter, maple syrup and seeds. The general configuration of the bird stand itself (an old limb I’d found and cut, allowing for natural perching) allows the wren plenty of access to food.
How this southern bird does it is just short of a miracle. You think she’d freeze to death. The temperatures drop, the winds howl, and there she is, 6:45 a.m., the first to show up at the feeder.
