A week or so ago sweet baby bird-chirping could be heard from the direction of one of the tiny nesting boxes that hang from the dogwood tree. The wren parents have been seen running relays to provide food for their offspring. They perch on the tree with insect in beak waiting for the other parent to emerge. As they enter the box in a quick flash the young ones can be heard chirping loudly and the whole box visibly shakes. The feisty birds fiercely defend their house. Their clamoring call has alerted me to a marauding blue jay as it tried to pierce a young chick through the box hole with its beak. My old felines get no peace when they lie on the warm stones on the terrace beneath. Soon the fledglings will depart and I will miss the drama, chatter and song of the little wren family.
There are other small survivors that return to the garden every year and are surely remnants of the native woodland. Besides false Solomon’s seal (Maianthemum racemosa) defying the ivy, I have found round-leaved pyrola (Pyrola americana), growing amongst hostas.