I checked daily for
weeks on our baby wrens
in the garage
on the old desk
destined for Goodwill
but when I got
home from work
the nest was destroyed
pulled into the yard
a broken candelabra
shattered on the
concrete floor beneath
something got our babies
probably the feral cat
the black one that
comes in at night
trips the light
prowls around on the hunt
I tiptoe sometimes
down the hall to watch it
in its silent quest for a
field mouse
something found these
baby wrens I’d
eagerly spied on
from eggs to
nestlings, almost
fledglings,
their tiny mouths
opening for worms
at the slightest
bump or noise
in nature’s cruel twist
they became
the worms
Rest in peace, little ones.
Common Threads 
Awe…that IS a major disappointment to see the baby wrens gone at the hands of most likely, a feral cat. And, I agree-at times, nature can be cruel! I love your poem-tiptoeing down the hall to spy on the cat or sneaking a peek at the little peepers!
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I just read Denise’s slice and viewed her video. Then your slice. A reminder of the hope that comes from new life but also the cruelness of this world. Side by side. Somehow, the poetry line from Betsy today gives me hope. May it do the same for you as you clean up the remnants. As for your poem, love all your imagery. Especially, “a broken candelabra”.
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There is so much tragedy in nature. I’m sure there’s a lesson here, but I’m only feeling the sadness of loss. Your poem expresses this heartache so well.
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Kim,
This is heartbreaking. I can’t help but think about humans’ role in what we attribute to nature. Who put the cat out in woods to fend for itself? Those poor baby birds.
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Glenda, we don’t have animal control here in this county, so we have all kinds of stray animals – particularly feral cats.
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So sad to hear about the wrens but your ending “they became the worms” is very powerful.
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Kim, what a sad telling of the demise of these little ones. Your teaser about the cruelty of nature–so true. The photo of the little wrens is so beautiful.
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Kim, your poem is powerful. I love how you pull us completely into your observation of the wrens and how their end impacts you even though you have added no sentimentality to your poem. It had to be heartbreaking to see their nest destroyed.
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Kim, it’s taken me a while to catch up on commenting…I am here now, paying my respects to these beautiful baby wrens. You know that I know all too well how heartwrenching it is to see helpless little things die. Especially so brutally. A phrase from Tennyson’s In Memoriam A.H.H. comes to mind: “Nature, red in tooth and claw…” There’s a terrible ferocity in nature. I see it daily in the little hummingbirds which battle each other so fiercely for the feeder. I see it in the glorious hawk that you and I (and your mom) love, which would make dinner out of the songbirds we also love. Last year for Christmas my husband gave me a smart bird feeder with a camera that will stream birds live to my phone; I haven’t put it out yet as I know resident hawks will pay attention to the little birds that come to feed (plus, I finally got around to getting a baffle for the pole, like, a week ago). I will put it out eventually…but back to little ones in the nest. My house finches raised two broods and after the second was gone, I took down the wreath and nest – they were a filthy shambles after two busy cycles. In the nest was one shrunken little egg which sat there while all its siblings grew and flew away. First dud egg I can recall. Infinitely better than dead nestlings, however. After last year’s mysterious loss of all five babies I kept my distance from this nest and just enjoyed the song coming from my door every day. Now I hear the finches singing from the woods…and take comfort that God knows about every sparrow (and bird, and person, and every living thing) that falls. Your poem, ending with the birds being the worms…so strikingly poignant. Do you know if the mother has made a new nest? For, as red in tooth and claw as Nature is, she is also profoundly resilient. She was designed to be. ❤
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Fran, as always I love reading your comments and insights. We seem to have the same birding cycles and crises happening. I am having to fix my Netvue. It’s on my list of things – – keeping it charged and working has been challenging for me, but I love it. There is no picture like a Netvue picture, and the expressions on their faces are priceless. Entertainment doesn’t get better. You’re going to absolutely love the pictures and the feeder, and it was a perfect gift for you. The line from Tennyson is felt. Sharply. Yes, nature is just wicked at times. I remember that bobcat with its stomach eaten, and recently a torn up squirrel. I know everything has to eat, but still. It is hard to imagine the heaviness, and it bothers me. The older I get, the more it bothers me when I see the gruesome deaths of wildlife. I remember your finch deaths vividly, and the nest and wondering what to do. I’m glad they rebuilt their family and recovered from the grief of their loss. As far as these go, I believe that they have rebuilt. They tried on the front porch, but they changed their minds and went somewhere else. I’m not sure where, but I see the little wren taking things out of the garage to go other places – – little clumps of the former nest, if I’m not mistaken. I also have phoebes just outside my bathroom, and they are fun to see. I’m grateful that nature is resilient. I wish it were that way for all of us! Thanks, as always, for reading and sharing.
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Precious little wren, carrying on, salvaging from the carnage – she gives hope to us all. ❤
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