The Daily Bucket is a place to catch your casual observations of the natural world and turn them into a valuable resource. Whether it's the first flowers of spring or that odd bug in your basement, don't be afraid to toss your thoughts into the bucket. Check here for a more complete description.
Seattle. Wednesday May 25. Along one of the deep trails in the forest, rain all around.
A male Winter Wren explodes out of the brush to perch not three feet away from me. He faces me full on, bobs up and down and scolds, "chtchtchtchtchtchtchtcht!". Sings a fragment of song, just the opening trill, which collapses into more scolding as a second wren rises up to bob and yell at me from an equally close position.
OK. I'm too close. I'm leaving now. I have this habit of replying to any critter who chooses to speak to me. I turn and begin to move away, which puts my line of sight directly onto a tangle of ferns.
It moves.
One-two-three-four wide-gaped brown fluffballs scatter out of its shelter, clumsy fluttering shadows flying fast and low. One tumbles into the brush, two make it to a fallen log, the last grabs onto a low branch and teeters there, wings flapping.
A brief silence while the last one finds its balance...
and the cacophony begins. The visible five each look right at me, bob and scold. The adults shout "chtchtchtchtcht!" The kids chime in, "tktktktkktktkktk!". From under the ferns one final voice joins the rest, "bztbztbztbztbzt!".
These are BIG sounds, far bigger than what you'd expect from a bird that might be as long as the palm of my hand. Harsh raspy rattles that go on and on, one bird picking up where another leaves off so that there is a continuous chord of voices challenging me. The scene is amusing, cartoony - teeny little birds with outsized voices bobbing and yelling at a critter hundreds of times their combined size. Reality is, my presence is stressing this little family. They've ventured a little close to a path where humans walk, but it's the human who needs to back off and leave the area. Which I do, and they go quiet by the time I've walked 20 feet up the path.
First 2011 sighting of Winter Wren fledglings in the forest - May 25. I didn't see or hear them on the 26th.
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Where are you? What did you hear/see today?
6:41 PM PT: Scott in NAZ let me know that Winter Wrens were split into two regional species in 2010. Out here on the west coast they're now called "Pacific Wrens"; on the east coast, "Eastern Wrens".
I've changed the title to reflect the change but left "Winter Wren" in the diary as a salute to a good name.