My Guide

Day 134: We have this in common, my little guide and I: we have a song to sing, but we prefer to remain unseen as we give it voice. Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus) is adept at staying out of sight, concealing himself in piles of brush so well that all anyone passing may see is a flash of motion in the corner of their eye. His song is long and varied, more music in his breast than one would think a small bird could hold, unless of course one understands the physiology of the syrinx which permits it. As we try to spot him in the dark places of the forest, we look vainly (there...no, there...or there, perhaps?) as his talent for ventriloquy deceives us. And then the melody falls upon us from immediately aside in a cascade of tinkling trills and arpeggios and, if fortunate, we catch a glimpse of drab, brown agitation, gone again in an instant. Where least expected, the song rises again repeatedly amid the stillness of the trees, acknowledging the interloper in the territory of the singer.

Pacific Wren

Day 195: I knew I only had seconds to capture a photo of my little friend here, despite the fact that he seemed to be anxious to have his portrait taken. I turned the camera on, and with some difficulty, found him against the background and zoomed in. Click! and then click again, and he was gone. Only then did I look at the settings. At 1/15th of a second, hand-held, I was sure I wouldn't have anything worth saving. The second image was a blur, but with a little post-processing, I brought this one up to an acceptable light level and was pleasantly surprised by the detail I'd caught in the long exposure. Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus) is an elusive little creature, quick to hop away into concealment, and there to serenade you with a long "Neener-neener, can't catch me!" taunt. More often heard than seen, he prefers brush piles and tangles of vines where his freckled colouration serves him well. But occasionally he pops out to perch on a twig, tail held erect in typical wren fashion, and then he's gone again before the thought of the camera has fully formed in your mind.

Pacific Wren, Troglodytes Pacificus

Day 168: These dear little birds are difficult to spot, elusive and extraordinarily hard to photograph and, arguably, are one of the most vociferous species to be found in our local forests. Pacific Wren has only recently been given status as separate from Winter Wren (Troglodytes pacificus and T. troglodytes respectively). Smaller than a sparrow or junco, they have a rounder outline (a "birb," if you will). They love to hide in brush piles and thickets and, as this individual will attest, they often nest behind a curtain of moss overhanging a shady rock face. It is their vocalization which gives their presence away, or as I often say, "How can that little tiny bird hold so much song?" It goes on forever, rising and falling like the final grand aria in an opera. The singer's secret is held in its breathing apparatus, the syrinx. This double-chambered organ allows birds to sound notes while inhaling or exhaling, similar to the circular breathing practiced by players of the didgeridoo. While this isn't a particularly good photo of Wrenny, it is one of very few I have been allowed to take of a species which holds a very special place in my heart.