Along with his ardent “tea-kettle, tea-kettle, tea-kettle” serenade, the exuberant male wren filled the silence between each aria with a friendly, buzzy recitative meant clearly for a nearby female. I peeked from my window to see his paramour perched on the porch railing, her head cocked towards the invisible soloist. She was listening, enrapt by what she heard. The vocalist was not in view, but frantic scratchings and louder songs suggested that he was trapped in the backpacks hung under the eaves. Carefully easing open the window, I extended my head. From the open, deep pocket of one of the packs, the songster burst forth, his lady friend close behind as they flew off together to the brush pile. Perched there upon the highest branch, buffy chest expanded and tail alertly upright, his indignant songs chastised me for disturbing his courtship.

 Our feisty Carolina wrens are cavity nesters and, like bluebirds, build their nests inside tree trunks or bird boxes. Unlike bluebirds, however, wrens aren’t picky, and often choose such unlikely places as coat (or pack) pockets, open buckets, or even narrow spaces behind paint cans on a garage shelf. They don’t mind being close to humans even though this trait makes them more susceptible than most birds to outdoor cats.

 Of the many kinds of wrens, some of which live in salt marshes and others in deserts, four different species occur in our area, three commonly. The Carolina wren is the most conspicuous because it frequents eastern woodlands and farm fields, and is such a noisy, inquisitive little bird. Its white eyebrow and chunky brown body can only be confused with a rare cousin, Bewick’s wren, which differs from the Carolina in its song and the white edges of its tail.

In the wintertime, we play host to winter wrens. Although they usually nest in more northern regions of Canada, a few find the Appalachians suitable for nesting and remain year round. This tiny brown bird can easily be mistaken for a mouse as it hops along stream banks and heavily wooded ravines, rarely flying more than a few feet at a time. Unlike its Carolina cousin, the winter wren does not frequent human habitations. This time of year, if you’re out in the forest near dawn or dusk, you just might hear a winter wren practicing his melodious, effervescent song. It sounds as fluid and dancing and gentle as the mountain brook he perches beside to sing.

 House wrens also occasionally make an appearance in our area, but only during spring and summer. We are along the southern limit of their breeding range.  In the winter, they migrate to the southeastern coast and into Mexico. They are slim gray birds, also cavity nesters, and have a bad reputation for puncturing the eggs of other birds. This behavior, however, is part of the natural cycle of population control. It is more prevalent when crowded conditions increase competition for limited nesting sites, and only a few individual wrens actually participate in the deed. Like Carolina wrens, house wrens often nest near humans and may choose unusual locations for their nests rather than the typical nest box. Their boldness and beautiful, bubbling song make them welcome near our home. So far, at least, the wrens that nest near us have not punctured eggs.

 It’s a good time of year for placing bird nesting boxes. Carolina wrens will be happy with unused buckets hanging in a barn or open garage and will occasionally use roomy bird boxes. House wrens often occupy nest boxes built to the specifications of bluebirds if the boxes are placed along the edges of fields or near brushy thickets. With luck, these virtuosi will provide a season of magnificent performances for you.