Having finished the circuit at the zoo we settled down for a nice lunch at the cafe. This chirpy little blue wren came close to our table while his brown wife Jenny jumped playfully on the grass. Nesting swallows swooped in an out of the rafters.
Musing:The Blue Wrens and the Butcher Bird by Judith Wright
"Sweet and small the blue wren
whistles to his gentle hen,
"The creek is full, the day is gold,
the tale of love is never told.
Fear not, my love, nor fly away,
for safe, safe in the blackthorn-tree
we shall build our nest today.
Trust to me, oh trust to me."
Cobwebs they gather and dry grass,
greeting each other as they pass
up to the nest and down again,
the blue wren and the brown wren.
They seek and carry far and near,
down the bank and up the hill,
until that crystal note they hear
that strikes them dumb and holds them still.
Great glorious passion of a voice--
sure all that hear it must rejoice.
But in the thorn-bush silent hide
the nest-builders side by side.
"The blue-wren's nestlings and his wife,
and he himself, that sprig of blue,
I shall kill, and hang them safe--
the blackthorn spears shall run them through."
Still and still the blue wren
sits beside his cowering hen.
There they wait like stone by stone
until the butcher-bird is gone.
Then soft and sweet the blue wren
twitters to his anxious hen,
"Trust to me, oh trust to me;
I know another blackthorn-tree."