Mostly, they’re shy, flitting around the edges of things, going about their business and peeking furtively from behind leaves and branches in brief, curious moments between hunting for spiders and bugs in hidden nooks. But there are days. There are walks. There are encounters when, for reasons completely mysterious, some tiny little bird person feels compelled to flit in close and without any of the normal protections of cover, break out in song or comment at length on things of tiny bird concern or recite one of its own feathered poems; a gift.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I was wondering if perhaps you too could use such a gift, for you see, it takes nothing away to share it.

Pacific Wren, Troglodytes pacificus.