There were fistfulls of wrens hatched and reared in the back garden this spring.
First appearing in May through mid summer they have now gone their separate ways.
John Burroughs describes them " A tiny dynamo of bird energy. The wren is habitually in an ecstasy either delight or of rage."
I miss hearing them sing, and scold when I get too near.
The goldfinches have now come to keep me company. They do not scold, only laugh their heh hee hee hee song and hang on the sunflowers.