Like blackbirds, gnomes and roses no British garden is complete without a wren. A tiny, busy, hardy bird that wont mind telling anybody of any shape or size to sling their hook. With a voice that can cut through glass Wrens rule there corner of the garden. But after all his boisterousness and front there is none such a cuter site than spotting a family of young wrens moving through the undergrowth, like a moth being gently followed by pieces of soot.
There is a louder wren on our fair Isles though. Take a boat to the archipelagos of the Outer Hebrides and here thriving in the bitter North Atlantic wilderness you will find the St Kilda Wren. This Scottish cousin is larger with a few different markings but most noticeably his voice is even louder, as unlike our wren he needs to be heard over the constant maelstrom of the ocean. The island was evacuated in the 1930’s and the St Kilda Wren’s numbers has been on the rise ever since. Good news.
From Caught by the river