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Miller H Caldwell, click here
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First flight of a wren
Too young to fly too weak to walk
Dusk was fading rapidly as I ran the watering can along the dahlias planted two days ago. As I approached the end of the row where the bed met the box hedge, I became aware of a slow movement. At first I thought it was a bat. With the tragic rabies death from a bat bite at the village of Guthrie near Arbroath last year, I was not rushing to get near it but then it chirped and I saw a slender yellow beak.
I approached carefully to find a newly fledged wren struggling on the soil. Its disproportionately long legs struggled to provide its round body with equilibrium. I cupped my hands beneath it and brought it indoors to see it better. Its eyes were still closed. Perhaps they had never opened. I placed a bottle top of milk near its beak and gauged its survival potential. It was so very young and too soon for it to find its feet, let alone find use of its wings. They lay motionless against its tiny body.
I took the helpless bird outside and placed it by the milk on a wooden table. I went to find my camera but after locating it, was disappointed to find no film inside. It was after 10p.m.now. Then I saw my neighbour closing his conservatory doors for the night and I called him over. Fortunately he had film in his camera.
We advanced cautiously and he took a flash photo. Then I placed the wren on the lawn by the milk, lay some leaf mould around it and left in the hope that it would receive either parental support or gain enough strength to engage in its first flight.
By morning it had gone. My neighbour’s photo failed to materialise.
Wren! Dear Jenny wren.
Just where and when
Did you take your first steps or your flight?
I hope you have flown
Away on your own
But thanks for your friendship last night.
Miller Caldwell
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Cute anyway.