Tweet of the week
The wren
The wren is the latest instalment in Tweet of the Week, a series exploring Great Britain’s magnificent bird life
The wren is one of our smallest birds, yet perhaps the most verbose. Take a walk out in the garden and chances are you will hear one calling from the nearest patch of shrubbery. Certainly, its starbursts of song are loud enough to drown out all else – particularly at this time of year, the breeding season.
The wren is actually the most common breeding bird in Britain, with an estimated 8.6 million territories. Still, it is difficult to ever spot one.
Our second smallest bird after the goldcrest, it is adept at creeping, mouse-like, through the undergrowth. Wrens rarely visit bird tables and instead prefer to gobble up insects and spiders out of sight.
If you do catch a glimpse, you will see its tail cocked at a jaunty angle, brown body trembling at the sheer effort of all that singing.
Theresa May has caused a stir this election campaign with her comments
about there being
“boy jobs and girl jobs” around the home, but the wren knows this all too well.
In spring, the male painstakingly constructs half a dozen nests out of moss, grass and feathers around his territory, only one of which will be chosen by the female to lay her eggs in. The more difficult to reach, the better.
The wren has been a constant companion through history and is well embedded in British and Celtic folklore. Ancient druids were convinced the wren possessed mythical powers of foresight.
Largely it was considered a sacred bird, but one common tradition which still persists on the Isle of Man on Boxing Day, and in parts of Ireland, is “hunting the wren”.
In the past, this meant a group of boys would go out to kill one of the birds and then bring it back to their villages to be rewarded.
Nowadays, on the Isle of Man at least, they show more mercy; banging a few sticks and waving flags instead. The wren is left in peace to do what it does best: hiding in plain sight, and causing one hell of a racket.