Nature Sings


Carolina Wren: Vocalist Extraordinaire

Author, Val Flamini

Conceived March 11, 2022

Posted September 16, 2022


I first noticed him the spring of 2020. The pandemic had quieted the streets and nature gracefully stepped to the foreground of my attention. Human friends retreated into their homes and backyard living creatures became my friends, family,.. daily collaborators. At first, it was his song that lifted my eyes and my attention to the trees. The trills and melismatic phrases were enchanting, irresistible. Have I ever heard such beautiful bird songs? I frequently stopped working to listen and allow my heart to feel lifted by his embellished calls. With unapologetic confidence, his voice soared over all other sounds in my small patch of woodlands. He swiftly leapt from tree to tree, tree to bush, and back again as if testing the acoustics of my yard. I took comfort in his presence, thinking: If he can still exuberantly share his artistic expression, there is hope.

I struggled to get a glimpse of him. I didn’t even know what kind of bird to try and find. Then one morning when spring’s rapture was evidenced by tender greens on all trees and bushes, I heard the song within inches of where I stood. I froze with the bird water tray still in my hands, water dripping off the sides and down my arms. I slowly turned my head to the left and gazed up a tall Oak. There he was, backlit by the morning sun in such a way that I could see his throat pulsating while he lifted his beak high and sang. An oddly curved bill gracefully filtered the song emanating from deep in his chest. I could only see an outline of the bird bouncing here and there, choreographed with quick tail flips. He would not allow me to get a good look at him. Previously I been concerned his bold singing would attract the new tenant, a hawk. However, when I watched him play hide and seek throughout the bushes, it was clear he had no fear of being caught. He was singing his boisterous song without concern; completely undeterred by circumstance or fear of being heard. He sang with his entire being! I longed to sing like him. Who is this tiny protagonist that happened to bless me at this time in my life?

Determined this little guy has the most beautiful repertoire of all the birds, I became obsessed with this creature. I searched for birds “round and puffy,” “melismatic singing,” “curved beak” until I saw an image of my tiny cinnamon colored friend: the Carolina Wren. I was finally able to take in all his features at once from the image: his round shape, the puffy buff colored breast, the gracefully shaped bill, a tail as straight and agile as a conductor's baton, and a white brow leading to strings of lacey dots along his feathers. I dug deeper and I read articles to learn more. This is when it became clear I was hearing the male wren. The female makes subtle sounds, more like percussive chirps. She is smaller and tends to “lay low” while the male scouts a nesting site. It became part of my day to note the couples habits and communication. I observed and researched with a determination difficult to explain. I wanted to know everything I could about my new friend! I listened to all podcasts about the bird and its ancestors. Apparently, the wren has had quite a journey since originating from Asian ancestors. The wren has appeared in both eastern and western folklore as a cunning, mischievous character. Wrens have been hunted, accused of shape shifting, feared, murdered out of ritual and superstition all around the globe. Some hunting practices continue today.

He is here again! The third spring in a row. He perches nearby, keeping watch while the female swoops in and out of a hanging bag of newspapers. She laces a tunnel-like nest inside with her final touches. The Carolina Wren often mate for life. The male and female sing together a textured duet: the female on the cog rattle and male using his melodious pipes. However, I noticed the couple is distinctly more quiet when their eggs have hatched. I've watched them tirelessly tend to their home and babies, but I have never seen the chicks. Occasionally I hear singing that sounds like a work in progress. I imagine a young wren practicing songs just outside my basement studio where I teach voice. Do they notice our singing too? Is that why they come back year to year? Perhaps, I am just noticing what has been here all along. Maybe this has been their spring residence for years and I am the one providing wonderment and a new perspective for HIM.