View From The Shed by Volunteer Shaun - THE WINTER KING

THE WINTER KING

Once upon a time in the long-lost land where fairytales were born there was a great gathering of all the birds. They came from all corners of the world with one purpose in mind. They were to decide once and for all which of them would be crowned King of All Birds. 

After much discussion, the method they decided upon was a trial of flight, for what defines birds if not flight and feather? (We’ll ignore those unfortunate few whose natural gifts don’t include taking to the air. The emu was never going to be anyone’s king).

So the birds all took off, a mighty flock that darkened the skies from horizon to horizon. Higher and higher they flew, for they had agreed that their champion would be the one who attained the greatest height, until they eventually began to drop away, one by one. First fell the songbirds, even the talented Skylark. Then the gulls began to fail for although they could fly huge distances, height was not their forte. Geese have been seen flying over the highest mountains but eventually even they had to admit defeat. This left the mighty Golden Eagle alone in the air with no competitors remaining. He soared the thermals into the heavens, calling loudly in celebration of his assumed victory as he flew up to the very limit of his ability.

But then came an even louder song from a much smaller bird. A tiny Wren leapt out from the feathers of the Golden Eagle’s back where he had stowed away. At this altitude it could only fly a tiny distance but that was just enough to take it a tiny bit higher than the exhausted Eagle.

The Eagle was so furious that it snatched the Wren from the air and threw it roughly to the ground, snapping its tail in the process leaving just the stumpy version that we see today. Then he sulked off to live the rest of his days alone in bare mountain regions where he is still found to this day. The sly little Wren, however, was hailed a hero and crowned King of All Birds. 

All the lady Wrens wanted to be his special friend and that’s probably why the species is now Britain’s most common breeding bird with over 11 million pairs nesting here. And it’s just as likeable today as it was then, with voting it fourth in Britain’s Favourite Bird national poll (behind Robin, Barn Owl and Blackbird).

That’s a fantastic ancient story about a fantastic little bird. Let’s look at some other Wren facts.

• Its song is not only loud, it’s incredibly fast as well, clocking in at around 12 notes per second. Even the fastest speed metal guitarist can’t match that. Its wings are fast too, whirring like a clockwork toy at an incredible 30 beats per second. An optimal dance music track would be around 125 beats per minute. So the Wren’s wingbeat is around fifteen times faster than techno. Dancing to that would really get your heartrate up!

• It’s the only British bird that cocks its tail at such a sharp angle to its body. Even the word ‘Wren’ means ‘little tail’ (blame that mardy old Eagle) and this stiff perky appendage makes it stand out. But look for them low down in the bushes. The average Wren hardly ever flies over six feet high (despite the old Kingmaker story) and won’t usually stray more than two miles from home. It doesn’t need to. They can find shelter and food almost anywhere and, despite being highly territorial the area that they hold is only small.

• The islands of the Shetlands, Fair Isle, St. Kilda and the Outer Hebrides all have their own genetically different subspecies of Wren. I’ve seen a few of these and honestly, they’re Wrens just like any other. I doubt if even Jenny or Bobby Wren from Old Moor could say that they were any different but the scientists say they are so who am I to gainsay them?

• The Latin name is Troglodytes troglodytes - the cave dweller - and some names that our ancestors would have known it by include Cut or Stumpy (for its shortened tail), Stag, Scut, Tope and Wrannock. Other names like Chitty Wren, Puggy Wren, Titty Wren or Titty Todger (stop chortling at the back!) all used ancient slang words to indicate the bird’s small size. You might also have heard the bird referred to as a Jenny Wren but in some areas the alternatives Sally or Kitty Wren were more popular. And there is a male equivalent too, Bobby Wren, although this has fallen out of usage. What does it matter what we call them though, as long as they know each other. And they do, especially when it comes to ‘setting up home together’. At the start of the breeding season the male Wren will start building the basic shells of up to ten individual nests in his territory, and as we can easily see when two come into close proximity, Wrens are very territorial birds. He’ll sing loudly to attract a female and, should one arrive, he’ll give her the best estate agent tour of his ‘fixer-uppers’. If she rejects it then he’ll show her the next, and the next, and so on. Should she approve of any of these bare constructions (and by extension, of him) then she’ll move in and complete the nest building to her own satisfaction…  and love will surely follow. As for all his hard work on the other nest shells, it won’t necessarily have been in vain as there are plenty more Jenny Wren’s in the forest. Maybe one of them will like his other nests? If so, he’ll be a busy Bobby as he’ll help with feeding both of his growing families.

And as for the story with which I began this week’s blog? Is it true or is it a simple fairy tail? Well all I can say is that my old Granny told it to me years ago when I was much younger and much, much smaller. 

You wouldn’t be calling my Granny’s honesty into question would you?