Yesterday, my wren came back. I suppose, technically, she's not my wren. And honestly, I don't even know that she's a she. This is the first time all winter I've seen her.
Yes, she's brown, and it is chilly enough that her pretty song doesn't carry over the storm windows and furnace. But even without her twitter and surrounded by a dozen sparrows, she stands out.
There is something so charming about her pricked tail and darting manner that always brings a smile.