Wrens of Martin Top

Two Sunday evenings ago, I left the pulpit and went straight outside, such as has become our tradition these past 18 months. I was struck by the beauty of the bird song, which met me as I entered the fresh air. It came from various wrens belting out a most glorious melody. One was occupying a tree branch just across the lane, and I was close enough to see his mouth wide open as he trilled. When he paused, other wrens filled the gaps; when they stopped, he continued, thus supplying us with constant wren-music.

The wren is the smallest British bird, being akin to a mouse with wings. It is no more than 10cm in length, but it sings with both beauty and volume. Psalm 104 contemplates God’s goodness toward His creation, remarking in verses 12-13:

By them the birds of the heavens have their home;

They sing among the branches.

He waters the hills from His upper chambers;

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of Your works

The wrens’ song was different to the ones we sang that night, but the same God did we praise.

Image by TheOtherKev from Pixabay