House Wren-ching

Despite their tiny size, house wrens sing an incredibly loud song. And it is utterly beautiful. Early summer here in Northwest New Jersey is made even more glorious thanks to the soundtrack provided by the little wrens. At one of the corners of my house, where the logs cross one another, I have provided four small wren houses, a little condo of bird heaven, and in years past, at least two of the houses have been occupied during breeding season.

For reasons I cannot fathom, an industrious little wren decided that the condo was too public. Instead, she constructed her nest on top of one of the Bose outdoor speakers which is situated under the eaves over my back deck. The other day, the poop on the deck forced my eyes upward to discover this little residence. Of course, I left it alone, as there was enough activity for me to know that there would soon be a little family residing there.

The days go by, the white poop spots continue to gather on the deck, and the little wren comes and goes with straw and insects and other materials. I await the birth, knowing that a typical wren clutch size is 3 - 10 eggs.

And then, this morning, while I was busy with my gardening duties, I became aware of a lot of noise around the nest. There were two wrens attending the nest, each approaching from a different side of the speaker. Downy feathers dropped from the nest, along with lots of twigs. I wondered if my music was too loud? Having some need to go inside, I gave up my attention to this little bird drama. When I came back outside, maybe 15 minutes later, there was quiet. I looked down to find six tiny little bird bodies on the deck, each less than an inch big. Yes, they were all dead.

I scooped them up into a seedling cup so that I wouldn't inadvertently step on them, and I was so saddened to look at their perfect little bodies. Why did this happen?

I went to my bird go-to, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, to see what I could learn about house wrens and their nesting habits. And I found this:

House wrens are aggressive. Single males sometimes compete for females even after a pair has begun nesting. In about half of these contests, the outsider succeeds in displacing his rival, at which point he usually discards any existing eggs or nestlings and begins a new family with the female.

So I guess that's what happened. I considered the cruelty and the sadness, the oddities of nature. But the little tragedy that took place on my back deck seemed larger than just bird theatre. It was later, when I took a break from gardening to waste some time on social media, that I understood my despair about my little wren babies. Story after story told the sad tale of children being taken from their parents by ICE at the border. Heart-wrenching stories.

Yes, there is nature. But there is also human nature. What is it that makes us different from our animal counterparts? The easy answer would be "compassion," but we've all seen evidence of compassion exhibited by our animal friends. Perhaps a combination of compassion and intelligence then? My little wrens were subject to centuries of behavior and instinct that caused them to behave in ways that seem, well, inhuman to us. So be it. But aren't we humans better than that? Every instinct that we have informs us that our offspring need to be loved and protected by us. And our intelligence should make sure that nothing interferes with that basic human need.

So how to explain what is happening at the border? Is there ice in the veins of the ICE agents? Perhaps the more pressing question is this: is there ice in the veins of this administration?

We know the answer to that. Meanwhile, there are children crying out for their parents. "Mama! Papa!" they cry. Displaced and discarded indeed.

I will end with a quote from the illustrious Robert De Niro: "Fuck Trump!"